In came his friend as unceremoniously as ever, and, sitting himself down on the sofa, drew vigorously at his cheroot for a minute or two before entering upon the topic that had brought him thither. 'Look here, John,' he exclaimed all at once, 'you're a confidential cuss, I guess, and I've got a scheme on hand that will "scoop the boodle" if properly carried out; and what I want to know is, whether your people will take a hand in it or no. It's a certain thing, and will go ahead like a runaway buggy anyway; but the less friction the better, so that if your people will grease the wheels a bit, so much the better for them and all consarned.' 'Tell me precisely what it is,' replied John cautiously, 'then I may be able to offer an opinion; but, of course, I can't say off-hand whether the firm will entertain the idea or not.' 'Waal,' replied Bill, 'I guess you're the firm pretty often, for your bosses are generally away huntin' or shootin' or foolin' around somewhere; anyway, your advice is generally listened to, I guess. Waal, to come to business. I'm fixin' up a new store on the most modern principles. I sell everything cheaper than anybody else anywhere in this little country of yours; any bloomin' thing that's asked for, why, it's there, delivered free to any part of the United Kingdom. Everybody comes along--Noah's Ark on a wet day ain't in it for the pushin' there'll be at our doors once we get opened out--and, another thing, everybody gets made into an automatic shareholder; for profits have to lie till they reach £5, when each man, woman, and child gets a share given them, will they, nill they--and you bet, John, they will. I tell you, the thing's fixed up, and is goin' to give Old Quay shocks. Why, I'm buyin' up here and there bankrupt stocks enough to bust the place with--pianners, hardware, bicycles, rose-trees, fam'ly Bibles, rat-traps--every taste will be suited, for I tell you cosmopolitanism ain't in it with Bill Coody. I tell you I'll be in a position to bust every single bicycle dealer in this little one-hoss place; every pianner dealer can shut up shop when I get started. Why, there won't be a pitman in Northumberland who hasn't got a demi-grand Eureka B. C. piano in his house in another three weeks' time, and every colliery village will have its Bayreuth Festival with "Canny Dog Cappie" and "Weel may the keel row" tinklin' away down each row.' 'But think of the poor shopkeeper!' John interrupted, aghast at this slaughter of the innocents.