know. Now, take your case, you worm. Have you a thorough knowledge of chemistry, physics, toxicology—"     

       "Sure."     

       "—electricity and microscopy?"     

       "You have discovered my secret."     

       "Can you use an oxy-acetylene blow-pipe?"     

       "I never travel without one."     

       "What do you know about the administration of anaesthetics?"     

       "Practically everything. It is one of my favorite hobbies."     

       "Can you make 'soup'?"     

       "Soup?"     

       "Soup," said Mr. Mifflin, firmly.     

       Jimmy raised his eyebrows.     

       "Does an architect make bricks?" he said. "I leave the rough preliminary work to my corps of assistants. They make my soup."     

       "You mustn't think Jimmy's one of your common yeggs," said Sutton. "He's at the top of his profession. That's how he made his money. I never did believe that legacy story."     

       "Jimmy," said Mr. Mifflin, "couldn't crack a child's money-box. Jimmy       couldn't open a sardine-tin."     

       Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.     

       "What'll you bet?" he said again. "Come on, Arthur; you're earning a very good salary. What'll you bet?"     

       "Make it a dinner for all present," suggested Raikes, a canny person who believed in turning the wayside happenings of life, when possible, to his personal profit.     

       The suggestion was well received.     

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