"I've been setting down and adding up what we all bring in each week.
Ma's washings, the Boarder's board, my studio work, Flamingus' and
Milt's wages, Gus's cow, Bud's singing, Co's dish-washing, and Bobby's
papers. What do you suppose it all amounts to?"
She allowed a few seconds of tragic silence to ensue before she gave the
electrifying total.
"Land sakes! Who'd 'a thought it!" exclaimed Mrs. Jenkins.
"We'd orter hev ice-cream and pie every day," reproached Cory.
"It would be reckoned a purty big salary if one man got it all,"
speculated the Boarder.
"We are rich!" exclaimed Bobby decisively.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," pursued Amarilly. "We must start a
syndicate."
"What's that, a show?" demanded Flamingus.
"No; I heard the artists down to the studio talking about it, and Mr.
Derry explained it. He said when a lot of folks put their cash on hand
together in one pile, they can buy something big and do more than as if
they spent it separate."
"Well, I ain't a goin' to put my money in with Co's," said Milt
sarcastically. "Wouldn't be much profit for me in that."
"You don't catch on," replied Amarilly. "If you should put in one
dollar, and Co should put in ten cents, at the end of a certain time,
you'd draw out ten dollars and Co would only draw out one. See?"
"I do," said the practical Gus.
"Well, now let's put our money into something and all own it together,
each one's share according to what we put in.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145