"We mustn't let our imagination run away with us," said Snorky. "One in
fifty and then we're safe."

"Well, let's say two million bathtubs," said Skippy, who disliked
figures, and felt the first promptings of avarice.

"So be it. Two million bathtubs and on every tub our royalty!"

"What'll we ask?"

"What do you suppose a bathtub averages!"

"Say fifty dollars, at ten per cent,--that would be five dollars coming
to us."

"Five dollars, but Skippy, isn't that exorbitant?"

"You forget we'll be in a position to dictate."

"Holy Maria!"

Under 2,000,000 he wrote the figure five and slowly noted the colossal
result.

"Do you realize what that means?"

"It means ten million dollars!"

"No, it means more than that--it means that if the Bathtub Combine came
to us to-day and offered us a million dollars--it would be suicide to
accept it!"

Skippy's eyes dilated with excitement. Slowly he tore the sheet of paper
in two.

"Burn it--take no chances," said Snorky, who proceeded to light a match.

"And that's only the United States," said Skippy in a whisper.

"There's Canada and the British Empire!"

"But Englishmen carry rubber tubs with them."

"They can be educated."

"The French don't bathe," said Skippy mournfully.

"That'll come."

"Holy cats, Rockefeller won't be in it!" said Skippy, who was
suffocating. "Snorky, what I said goes! Money isn't everything.
No--sentiment's bigger. Fifty-fifty, I said, and fifty-fifty it
stands!"

"Then I'll put money into it," said Snorky, offering his hand. "I'll go
to my father. But not now--not a word until we get the patent. If any
one gets the idea we're lost!"

Skippy jumped at the sound of Butsy White's elephantine descent of the
stairs.

"And Skippy," said Snorky Green, with a sudden realization of a man's
frailties, "whatever you do--never tell a woman. You understand?"

Skippy, whose relations with the opposite sex were of the cat-and-dog
variety, solemnly raised his hand.

"I swear."

"Now to be practical. I say, Skippy, we do have to invent the regulator,
you know."

CHAPTER VI

METHODS OF A FINANCIER

WHEN, after a dream-ridden night, Skippy started across the campus to
morning chapel, the urchin's wabble had gone from his legs forever. He
moved with firm and measured tread, shoulders thrown back and head
erect, every inch a man, and his glance was set into the future with
proud recognition of his place in the complex scheme of t