"The trouble with New York is that everybody wants to collect the
profits that are going to be made," Loring sagely concluded.

"It's the only way they can get even," Johnny informed him. "Well,
that's the regular handicap. Guess I'll have to take it."

"You don't mean to try to promote a hotel against such inflated
values!" protested Loring.

"Why not?" returned Johnny. "That section has to have a hotel. The
sporty merchants of the Middle West will pay the freight."

"I guess so," agreed Loring thoughtfully. "Well, good luck to you,
Johnny! By the way, President Close of the Fourth National, has
called you up twice this afternoon. I suppose he's gone, by now."

"No, I think he stays to sweep out for the gold-dust," surmised
Johnny, and telephoned to the bank. Mr. Close, however, had gone
home an hour before.

"He's sensible," approved Loring, putting away his papers. "This
weather would tempt a mole outdoors. I'm going to the ball game.
Better come along."

"Too frivolous for me," declared Johnny, eying his little book
regretfully. "There's a thirty-five-thousand-dollar day almost gone.
All I can credit myself with is a flivver. I'm going to stay right
here on the job and figure hotel."