before!"

"Hmm!" says Calder, takin' the band back. "That's all settled then!
Young man," he says to Alex, "the cashier will give you a check. Come
back at the end of the week and I'll either give you back your
neckband, or a contract for five hundred thousand of them a year for
twenty years!"

"Thanks!" says Alex. "Will you have that check certified?"

Well, Simmons like to went insane with joy when we sprung the news on
him and Alex insists on him takin' that seven thousand dollar check
whole. He didn't ask for a nickel, which had me puzzled. Mrs. Simmons
goes out shoppin' for furs, diamonds and automobiles, and the wife asks
me why I don't invent somethin', but outside of that they was nothin'
more doin' till the end of the week. Then, Alex comes up and breaks
the news to Simmons that the Brown-Calder Shirt Company will take all
the neckbands that Simmons can supply, as long as people wear shirts.

"We have got to deliver 50,000 in a month," says Alex, "at the rate of
two and a half cents apiece. Can you do it?"

Simmons falls back on the sofa in a dead faint!

Well, they was great excitement and the wife finally brings him to life
with smellin' salts.

"It was prob'ly the sudden mention of so much money, eh?" I says.

"I'm ruined!" hollers Simmons, leapin' up and dancin' around. "Why, it
took me two weeks to make that one miserable model I gave you!" he
yells at Alex. "I couldn't make fifty thousand of them things in a
lifetime!"

Alexis eyes glitters.

"Here!" he says, slappin' Simmons on the back. "Pull yourself
together, man! You've got to think of somethin'. How did you make
that one?"

"By hand!" wails Simmons.

"Well, they must be some way of makin' a machine that can turn out so
many thousand an hour!" says Alex, walkin' back and forth. "Why--"

"I don't care who makes 'em!" says Simmons. "All I want is to get paid
for my idea. I--"

"Listen to me!" interrupts Alex, shakin' him. "Can't you invent some
kind of a machine for turnin' them neckbands out?"

"Oh, I had a little something figured out the other night," says
Simmons, "but what's the use of me botherin' with that? Why, a machine
of that kind would cost at least twenty thousand dollars to make!
Where can I get that much money?"

"Look here!" Alex tells him. "You got seven and I'll loan you the
balance. You get busy on that machine right away--there's no time to
lose!" He grabs his hat. "Come with me and I'll get