'Now, John,' expostulated Bill, as one who reproves a child for foolishness, 'it's not "first-day," and you ain't "in meeting," so stick to business, if _you_ please. Waal, the thing's got to go, as I'm sayin', and the only question is, are your people goin' to join in or no? If not, I bust their little donkey go-cart of Supply Stores which they set up a few years back in South Street "for the mutual encouragement of thrift and the supply of the best articles at first-hand cost" as the prospectus says, combinin' philanthropy and five per cent, plus their commission on floatin' the shop. Now, I know how much they have in it, your bosses. J. B. has 10,000 shares, and young T. he has 5,000 out of a total of 30,000, so they're the largest shareholders in the concern, but Bill Coody has shares in it, too, John, he or his nominees. Likely you've noticed the shares have been jumpin' up a bit lately and been wonderin' what the jooce was up, eh?' 'Yes,' responded John quietly, endeavouring to conceal any disquietude he might feel; 'yes, I've noticed that.' 'Waal, we've got enough to bust their shop up pretty well, and if your people don't come into my showyard I'll give their shares away with a pound of tea,' and here he pulled out a handful of certificates from his trousers' pocket and flourished them in John's face, which was gradually growing longer as the other unrolled his arguments. 'But how did you get the necessary capital?' John inquired after a pause, professional curiosity piqued at this unexpected revelation of means.