“I ain't so sure there's anything I can learn of you! I was a mechanic when you was a nursing baby.”
“About then, I should say,” answered Benson. “But the world's slipped forward a cog or two since then.”
“Better buy me out, Tom!” urged Bently. “It's your chance to let the world know how smart a fellow you are!”
“You'll sell then? It ain't all talk?” said Benson.
“Make me your offer, you know what the shops are doing; make me a fair offer and I'll leave you alone here, since that is what you want, to play hell with the business!”
“You'll have my offer inside of two hours,” said the Yankee mechanic coolly.
“Make it cash, Tom, I want none of your paper; people will be building fires with it inside of a twelve month,” he jeered.
Benson turned on his heel and went back through the shops to the pattern-room. From his desk there, which he unlocked, he took a device in polished wood and steel and nickle. This he slipped under his coat, for it was too bulky to carry in his pocket; then he went straight to his nephew's office, where he wasted no time in explanation.
“I want to buy Bently out, Jake,” he said briefly. “I've got money enough put by to meet his price. Now'll you go in with me? for I must have a partner with capital. Wait a minute—I want you should see this before you give me your answer;” and he placed the mechanism he had brought from the pattern room in the lawyer's hands.
“Do you know what you got there, Jake?” he asked, after a moment's silence.