of the concern, George; yours is the big name. Yes; I'm for that. Make you president, hey, and still general manager; and make me vice- and office-boy? That the idea?"
"I suppose so," confessed George sheepishly.
"And if we do that, they'll underwrite our loans?" The old man's face was eager, even excited, as he sought to gain a specific assurance on this point.
"That's what they say."
Milton Morris threw an arm around the absurdly dejected figure beside him. "George!" he husked gratefully. "You've saved us. Saved us! You made this business out of a shoestring, and now you've saved it for all of us."
But the younger man was still in a protesting mood
"Mr. Morris," he began to postulate, "if ever I get this business to the point where we're out of debt and independent of the whole world, the first thing I'll do is to sell your stock back to you at what I paid for it, and the same for every other stockholder who gives up prospective profits to me."
The older man looked at the younger queerly. "George," he observed, "you're a kind of a nut. Quit chewing your thumb now and set right there and dream next year's business, while I appoint old Milt Morris a committee of one to
