"Bad practice," Tweet interrupted. "The better way is to never do anythin' that calls for an apology. Can't say that I live up to it, but I do my darnedest--and angels can do no more. After the first half hour I knew you wouldn't show up, so I went down and had lunch. More'n you've had, I'll bet. Just glance over that article and see what you think of it." "I thought you were broke." "Oh, they can't keep a good man down. The friend I went to see insisted that I take a dollar he had that wasn't workin'. Don't suppose I'll be with you for dinner, either, as I've got an engagement at about that hour. But read that article." Hiram obeyed. It told of a ditch digger that had recently been enlarged from the inventor's model, and which, at the first trial, was proving a decided success in moving earth more rapidly than any previously invented. With only his model to prove his claims, the inventor had managed to sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade. To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he looked up at Tweet for an explanation. "I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. "My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em." "Really! Is it worth anything to you?" "I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double that in a year or two." "Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet. "Why don't you sell it, then?" "Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?" "Yes, but you're broke and----" "And I'll stay broke on a deal like that." Tweet's indignation caused him to grab his off-center nose and impatiently correct its obstinate trend, but to no avail. "But le's forget it and get back to that bugbear of our young lives. _When_ are we _going_ to southern California?" Hiram sat framing a reply, which was rather a difficult process. "Le's wait till to-morrow, anyway," he said at last. "Had quite a little chat with Lucy to-day, eh?" "Yes, I did. When you told----" Hiram bit his tongue. "The truth is, she's from Mendocino County, too, and we--we--that is, we found it out." Not the faintest sign of suspicion or surprise showed in Tweet's face. "Well, suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. "It's a little late, or I'd go this afternoon. But to-morrow I go. My friend'll dig up the price, but I hate to hit him up any more. Think it over a little longer, Hooker--I'm goin' down for a little stroll. But remember--before noon to-morrow I've gotta have a definite answer. I've found that Morgan & Stroud send their bunches out every day at one o'clock." Tweet folded his precious paper, crammed it his pocket, and left the room.