Come round to the office tomorrow,
and I'll give you some pointers.' And he fixed up a
two-column ad right away. He was afraid I'd round on him,
I suppose, if I caught him saying anything more about
the immorality of subsidies."
"He won't say anything more."
"Probably not. Milburn hasn't got much of a political
conscience, but he's got a sense of what's silly. Well,
now, I expect you want all the time there is."
Mr Williams removed himself from the edge of the table,
which was strewn with maps and bluebooks, printed official,
and typewritten demi-official papers.
"Give 'em a notion of those Assiniboian wheat acres, my
boy, and the ranch country we've got; tell 'em about the
future of quick passage and cold storage. Get 'em a little
ashamed to have made so many fortunes for Yankee beef
combines; persuade 'em the cheapest market has a funny
way of getting the dearest price in the end. Give it 'em,
Lorne, hot and cold and fricasseed. The Express will back
you up."
He slapped his young friend's shoulder, who seemed occupied
with matters that prevented his at once feeling the value
of this assurance. "Bye-bye," said Mr Williams. "See you
again before you start."
"Oh, of course!" Lorne replied. "I'll--I'll come round.
By the way, Williams, Mr Milburn didn't say anything--
anything about me in connection with this business? Didn't
mention, I suppose, what he thought about my going?"
"Not a word, my boy! He was away up in abstract principles;
he generally is.
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