"You know they quit putting perfumery on their clothes right after the Chicago fire."
He left the room with faultless dignity.
"Impertinent young whelp!" spluttered the oldest director; but his first fellow-director who dared to look at him saw that he was gazing pensively from the high window, his back to the group.
"No good," said the quiet director to the largest. "A little man's always the hardest to bluff. Bet I could bluff you quicker than you could bluff him!"
"Well, I didn't know what else," answered the largest director, who was already feeling bluffed.
"Why didn't J. B. here assert himself then?"
"’Fraid he'd get mad 's 'ell an' quit me," said Breede. "Only st'nogfer ever found gimme minute's peace. Dunno why—talk aw ri'. He un'stan's me; res' drive me sane."
"Plug's pulled, anyway," commented the quiet director. "Only thing to do is haul in what we can on a rising market. God knows where she'll stop."
"Pound her down," said the largest director sagely.
"Any pounding now will pound her up."
"Hold off and let it die down."
"Only make it worse. No use; we ve got to cut that money up."
"Seven hundred shares, did he say?" asked the large director. "Very pretty indeed! J. B., I'll only give you one guess whether he quits his job or not."
"Thasso!" admitted Breede dejectedly.
