at a hundred and twenty-five to-morrow, sure!" said the quiet one quietly.
"Placed an order yesterday for four hundred shares and got 'em," said another, not so quietly. "And to-day they're bidding Federal Express up to the ceiling."
"Plug pulled!"
The advanced-dressing director strutted to the fore with a visibly purpling face.
"Plug pulled? Want t' know where it was pulled? Right in this office. Want to know who pulled it? That!" He pointed unmistakably to the child among them taking notes. At another time Bean might have quailed, at least momentarily; but he had now discovered that the advanced-dressing old gentleman used scent on his clothes. He was afraid of no man who could do that in the public nostrils. He surveyed the old gentleman with frank hostility, noting with approval, however, the dignified yet different pattern of his waistcoat. But he knew the other directors were looking hard at him.
"Shrimp! snake!" added the old gentleman, like a shocked naturalist encountering a loathsome hybrid.
"Been plowing with our heifer?" asked Breede incisively.
Bean was familiar with that homely metaphor. He felt easier.
"Your heifer!" He would have liked to snort as the old gentleman did, but refrained from an unpractised effort! "Your heifer? No; I bought
