getting. A firm's record, standing, staff, equipment, mean nothing
to him."

"But, Jock, I still don't see--"

Jock gathered up a sheaf of loose papers and brandished them in
the air. "This is where I come in. I've got a plan here that will
fetch this Griebler person. Oh, I'm not dreaming. I outlined it
for Sam Hupp, and he was crazy about it. Sam Hupp had some sort of
plan outlined himself. But he said this made his sound as dry as
cigars in Denver. And you know yourself that Sam Hupp's copy is so
brilliant that he could sell brewery advertising to a temperance
magazine."

Emma McChesney stood up. She looked a little impatient, and a
trifle puzzled. "But why all this talk! I don't get you. Take your
plan to Mr. Berg. If it's what you think it is he'll see it
quicker than any other human being, and he'll probably fall on
your neck and invest you in royal robes and give you a mahogany
desk all your own."

"Oh, what's the good!" retorted Jock disgustedly. "This Griebler
has an appointment at the office to-morrow. He'll be closeted with
the Old Man. They'll call in Hupp. But never a plan will they
reveal. It's against their code of ethics. Ethics! I'm sick of the
word. I suppose you'd say I'm lucky to be associated with a firm
like that, and I suppose I am. But I wish in the name of all the
gods of Business that they weren't so bloomin' conservative.
Ethics! They're all balled up in 'em, like Henry James in his
style."