ek out, with
endless possibilities of increase.

"And what did you say you would take for a half interest?" he asked.

"I didn't say," returned Wallingford, chuckling, "because I wouldn't
sell a half interest under any consideration. I don't mind confessing
to you, though, that I do need some money at once, so much so that I
would part with four hundred and ninety-nine shares, right now, and
for spot cash, for a lump sum of twenty-five thousand dollars."

"Bound to keep control himself," Mr. Squinch reported to his
_confreres_, after having reluctantly confessed to himself that he
could not take care of the proposition alone. "I don't blame him so
much, either, for he's got a vast money-maker."

"Money without end," complained Andy Grout, his mouth stretching
sourly down to the shape of a narrow croquet wicket; "and the longer
we stay out of this thing the more money we're losing. It's better
than any building-loan."

There was a curious hesitation in Andy Grout's voice as he spoke of
the building-loan, for he had been heartbroken that they had been
compelled to give up this lucrative business, and he was not over it
yet.

Doc Turner rubbed his perpetually lifeless hands together quite
slowly.

"I don't know whether we're losing money or not," he interjected.
"There is no question but that Wallingford will make it, but I suppose
you know why he won't sell a half interest."

"So he won't lose control," said Squinch, impatient that of so obvious
a fact any explanation should be required.

"But why does he want to keep control?" persisted Doc Turner. "Why, so
he can vote himself a big salary as manager. No matter how much he
made we'd get practically no dividends."

It was shrewd Andy Grout whose high squeak broke the long silence
following this palpable fact.

"It seems to me we're a lot of plumb idiots, anyhow," he shrilled. "He
wants twenty-five thousand for less than fifty per cent. of the
stock. That's five thousand apiece for us. I move we put in the five
thousand dollars apiece, but start a company of our own."

Mr. Grout's suggestion was a revelation which saved Jim Christmas from
bursting one of his red veins in baffled cupidity. Negotiations with
Mr. Wallingford for any part of his stock suddenly ceased. Instead,
within a very short time there appeared upon the door of the only
vacant office left in the Turner block, the sign: "The People's
Cooperative Bond and Loan Company."

Mr. Wallingford di