on some things right this morning. I--I've got to know how to
portion out my investments."

Sam looked at his watch and was genuinely distressed.

"I'm sorry," said he, "but I have an engagement over at Hollis Creek at
exactly ten o'clock, and I've scant time to make it."

"Business?" demanded Westlake.

"No," confessed Sam slowly.

"Oh, social then. Well, social engagements in America always play
second fiddle to business ones, and don't you forget it. I'll talk
about this matter this morning or I won't talk about it at all."

Sam stopped nonplussed. Westlake was an important factor in the
prospective Marsh Pulp Company.

"Tell you what you do," said he, after some quick thought. "Why can't
you get in the trap and drive over to Hollis Creek with me? We can
talk on the way and you can visit with your friends over there until
time for luncheon; then I'll bring you back and we can talk on the way
home, too."

Miss Hallie and Princeman and young Tilloughby came cantering down the
drive and waved hands at the two men.

"All right," said Westlake decisively, looking after his daughter and
answering her glance with a nod. "Wait until I get my hat," and he
wheeled abruptly away.

Sam fumed and fretted and jerked his watch back and forth from his
pocket, while Westlake wasted fifteen precious minutes in waddling up
to the house and hunting for his hat and returning with it, and two
minutes more in bungling his awkward way into the buggy; then Sam
started the grays at such a terrific pace that, until they came to the
steep hill midway of the course, there was no chance for conversation.
While the horses pulled up this steep hill, however, Westlake had his
opportunity.

"I suppose you know," he said, "that you're not going to be allowed
over two thousand shares of common stock for your patents."

"I'm beginning to give up the hope of having more," admitted Sam.
"However, I'm going to stick it out to the last ditch."

"It won't be permitted, so you might as well give up that idea. How
much stock do you think of buying?"

"About five thousand dollars' worth of the preferred," said Sam.

"Which will give you fifty bonus shares of the common. I suppose of
course you figure on eventually securing control in some way or other."

"Not being an infant, I do," returned Sam, flicking his whip at a weed
and gathering his lines up quickly as the mettled horses jumped.

"I don't know of any one person who's going