GOSH! Gosh Almighty!" exclaimed Milton Morris in delightful amazement when George rushed with his exciting news into the little factory on Franklin Street. "Gosh! . . . You did it, by golly, didn't your . . . Well, darned if I didn't think you would—somehow or other. And to prove that I thought so, look here, George, I've been figuring out how we could allot our parts orders to get out these eleven hundred cars."
He pointed to some memoranda on a page of scratch paper, and began to read off the names of the different manufacturers, "It's mainly the matter of assembly room that bothers me," he finally added. "I was looking at the lot next door and the three behind us. If you think you're going to get money so fast, we could stretch a corrugated roof over those lots and that would give us floor space to throw the eleven hundred cars together in."
But George vetoed this instantly. His success with Stephen Gilman had made him feel
