Damon!" laughed Tom, as he shook hands with the
man whom Mr. Damon had named Dixwell Hardley. "Hold on, if you
please. There's a limit to it, you know, and already you've said
enough about me to--"
"Bless my ink bottle, Tom, I haven't said half enough!"
interrupted the little, eccentric man. "Wait until you hear what
he has done, Mr. Hardley. Then, if you don't say he's the very
chap for your wonderful scheme, I'm mighty much mistaken! And
shake hands with Ned Newton, too. He's Tom's financial manager,
and of course he'll have something to say. Though when he hears
how you are going to turn over a couple of million dollars or
more, why, I know he'll be on our side."
Ned's eyes sparkled at the mention of the money. In truth he
dealt in dollars and cents for the benefit of Tom Swift. Ned
shook hands with Mr. Hardley and Tom motioned Mr. Damon and his
friend to chairs.
"Now, Tom," went on the strange little man, "I know you're
busy. Bless my adding machine, I never saw you when--"
At that moment there arose in the corridor outside Tom's
private office a discord of voices, in which one could be heard
exclaiming:
"Now yo' clear out oh heah! Massa Tom done tole me to sweep
dish yeah place, an' ef yo' doan let me alone, why--why--"
"Huh! Radicate him big stiff--dat's what! Big stiff! Too stiff
for sweep Master's floor.
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