a highball. In your earnestness you
muss your hair. You retire to primp. A comb hangs before you, with one
serviceable tooth. A brush with eight bristles hangs by its side. You
smooth your hair with your towel and go away saddened for ever!"

"The trouble is," said Colonel Bouncer, "that every man thinks he's
going to carry a neat little pocket-comb in a neat little case, and he
buys dozens of them; but he never has one with him."

"Thanks," acknowledged Johnny. "Now suppose you could step into any
barber shop, theater, hotel, saloon or depot wash room, drop a nickel
in a slot and take out a nice papier-mache comb, paraffined and
medicated and sealed in an oiled-paper wrapper. Would you do it?"

"Just as fast as I could push the button," agreed Bruce with enthusiasm.

"Well, I've just invented that comb," explained Johnny, smiling. "Do
you think there would be a good business in manufacturing it?"

Courtney, who had been considering the matter gravely, now nodded his
head emphatically.

"There's a handsome fortune in it," he declared. "It is one of those
little things of which there are enormous quantities used and thrown
away each day. If you want to organize a company to put it on the
market, Johnny, I'll take any amount of stock you think proper--not
only for the investment, but for the pure philanthropy of it."

"Also for the pure selfishness of it," laughed Joe Close. "Courtney
wants to be sure to find a private comb in every public wash room."

"When you get your factory going I wish you'd send a salesman to my
head supply man," requested Mort Washer. "I'll buy them by the ton, and
every guest who comes into one of my hotels will find a fresh comb in
an aseptic wrapper by the side of his individual soap."

"That will be up to Bruce," Johnny informed him. "Bruce intends to
manufacture this device at his papier-mache factory."

"Thanks," acknowledged Bruce. "I hadn't contemplated enlarging the
factory, but I see I shall need to."

"Johnny isn't kidding, Bruce," Val shrewdly warned him.

"Neither am I," maintained Bruce stoutly. "I'll have that comb on the
market so quickly that you can almost afford to wait for it. Royalty,
Johnny?"

"No," denied Johnny promptly. "I'll sell it to you outright for ten
thousand dollars, me to sign any sort of papers you need and you to pay
the patent lawyer."

"I'd be robbing you," protested Bruce. "I should think you'd want to
retain an interest in the manufacture, or