"Have you definitely made up your mind, pop, to take stock in Mr. Turner's company?" she asked, sitting down by that placid gentleman. Without removing his interlocked hands from their comfortable resting-place in plain sight, he slowly twirled his thumbs some three times, and then stopped. "Yes, I think I shall," he said. "About how much?" Miss Westlake wanted to know. "Oh, about twenty-five thousand." "Who's to get it?" "Why, I thought I'd divide it between Billy and you." Miss Westlake put her hand on her father's arm. "Say, pop, give it to me, please," she pleaded. "Billy can take the next stock you buy, or I'll let him have some of my other in exchange." Mr. Westlake surveyed his daughter out of a pair of fish-gray eyes without turning his head. "You seem to be especially interested in this stock. You asked about it yesterday and Sunday and one day last week." "Yes, I am," she admitted. "It's a really first-class business investment, isn't it?" "Yes, I think it is," replied Westlake; "as good as any stock in an untried company can be, anyhow. At least it's an excellent investment chance." "That's what I thought," she said. "I'm judging, of course, only by what you say, and by my impression of Mr. Turner. It seems to me that almost anything he goes into should be highly successful." Mr. Westlake slowly whirled his thumbs in the other direction, three separate twirls, and stopped them. "Yes," he agreed. "I'm investing the money in just Sam myself, although the scheme itself looks like a splendid one." Miss Westlake was silent a moment while she twisted at the button on her father's coat sleeve. "I don't quite understand this matter of stock control," she went on presently. "You've explained it to me, but I don't seem quite to get the meaning of it." "Well, it's like this," explained Mr. Westlake. "Sam Turner, with only a paltry investment, say about five thousand dollars, wants to be able to dictate the entire policy of a million-dollar concern. In other words, he wants a majority of stock, which will let him come into the stock-holders' meetings, and vote into office his own board of directors, who will do just what he says; and if he wanted to he might have them vote the entire profits of the concern for his salary." "But, father, he wouldn't do anything like that," she protested, shocked. "No, he probably wouldn't," admitted Mr. Westlake, "but I wouldn't be wise to let him have the chance, just the same." "But, father," objected Miss Hallie, after further thought, "it's his invention, you know, and his process, and if he doesn't have control couldn't all you other stock-holders get together and appropriate the profits yourselves?" Mr. Westlake gave his thumbs one quick turn.