"A store? Great Scott, I didn't think it was that serious. You mean you're honestly thinking of renting a store?"
"We've got to have a store."
"We?" This time the man's tone was sharp. "Who's in the thing with you?"
"Sam."
It was out at last, and Bert felt that a load was lifted from his heart. The effect was electrical. Mrs. Quinby gave a nervous start and upset her cup of tea. Mr. Quinby, after an exclamation of anger, pushed away his plate and sat there black and glowering. Several seconds passed before he spoke.
"Tell me what crack-brained plan you're up to now," he said grimly.
Bert told the story of the Shoppers' Service, and for the second time that day brought the agreement from his pocket. His father, seeming to read it at a glance, folded it and threw it on the table.
"Another clerk to hire and break in just when I've got one trained," he said bitterly. "Do you realize that this takes Sam away from me?"
"I know it now."
"That means you didn't think of it at first?"
"No, sir; I didn't think of it until to-day."
"I suppose I should thank you for thinking of it at all. There's just one thing I want to know. Whose plan was this, yours or Sam's?"
