"Bless you, they don't talk big things. They tell anecdotes. And they talk about the time when they were boys--and their early struggles. Every darned one of them came from a farm or a blacksmith shop. They all love to tell how often their fathers licked 'em. And they gossip about their old friends and things. The ride in is not business, Honey, it's social. There's one thing I've discovered in that Pullman Club," he went on. "These fellows are n't any cleverer than many a man in my position, but they've realized that it's just as easy to play with blue chips as with white ones--and they've got the nerve to do it." "I don't catch on." "It's just as easy to play with dollars as with dimes--just as easy to write an order for a thousand as for ten. And it's easier to do business with big men. They're more imaginative, quicker to grasp." "That's how they got there," Honey interjected. "But particularly, Honey, these men are all keen students of human nature. They can size a man up--gee! 'Brown's able,' says one. 'Yes, but he's tricky,' says another. 'Carpenter's honest, but he's a fool.' With the 'gold bugs' credit is a combination of honesty and ability." Skinner sipped his demi-tasse reflectively. "Honey, you remember what Russell Sage said in reply to Horace Greeley's, 'Go West, young man!' No? Well, this is what he said: 'If you want to make money, go where the money is.' _I 've_ begun to go where the money is. See the connection?" "I'm glad you have," said Honey, nodding her head. "Those clerks you used to travel with never thought big thoughts or they would n't have been clerks." "But remember, Honey, I'm only a clerk." "But you never did belong in the clerk class." "You're right! I never did! I'm beginning to realize it now. Why, do you know,"--leaning over the table and counting off his words with his finger,--"I've had ideas that if I 'd only been able to carry out, ideas that I got right in that little cage of mine--" Thus Skinner's education progressed. He took as enthusiastic a delight in studying the "gold bugs" as a naturalist would in some very ancient, but recently discovered, insect. "I 'm finding out lots of good things in that Pullman Club, Honey," said Skinner a week later at the dinner table. "Every one of these 'gold bugs' has something under his skin. They may be Dick Turpins and Claude Duvals and Sam Basses, their methods of getting things may not be ideal, but you can't beat their methods of giving. They've all got lovable qualities. They do a lot of things that show it--and they don't use a brass band accompaniment either." "For instance?" said Honey, simply and sweetly. "Well," said Skinner, "take old John Mackensie. He's so close that they say his grandfather was the man who chased the last Jew out of Aberdeen." Skinner picked up the paper. "See those initials, honey? 'D. C. D.'" "I've noticed them."