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"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently. "All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like. I'll surely look you up." He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage rolled swiftly by him. The card flipped from the man's fingers.
How would it do to sell all these mills and elevators, and use the company as a kind of a cream skimmer a profit shop to market the products of the mills?" He paused a moment, and Bemis, who knew he was not expected to reply, flipped pebbles into the stream. Barclay changed his position slightly and began to pick stones out of the crevices, and throw the stones into the water.
"Go to the devil," retorted Kendric, and banged the door shut after him. Though he had not intimated his intention to his visitor, Kendric, holding to his determination to simplify matters, had made up his mind to have a talk with Barlow first of all. Since that could not come until tomorrow, the thing now was to go to bed. He undressed and put out his light. Then he flipped up his window shade.
Puzzled but unquestioning, the admiral went to the visiphone and dialed the zoo. "Admiral Hawarden, Curator. I believe the Prime Minister's toogan was just delivered to you. There was a mistake. Please send it back ... never mind, sir, what the 'why' is, just return it immediately." He flipped off the switch impatiently, and looked at the young Secret Serviceman with wondering eyes. A toogan?
"He's never been admitted to the bar. Say, you flip a dollar." The thought of chance-taking appealed to Curly. He flipped the dollar. "Heads, me," said Dan Anderson; and so it fell. That young man smiled blithely. "We'll skin 'em, Curly," said he. "You'll be as free as air in less'n a week." "Now," said Dan Anderson to me, "it's all right thus far.
He flipped over and turned his attention to Loring who was more dangerous, since he was now backed up against a bulkhead waiting for Tom to present a steady target. Loring started to fire, but Tom saw him in time and shot away from the wall toward the hatch. He twisted his body completely around, and with his shoulder hunched over, fired at Loring with his ray gun.
Quickly he re-entered the shop, and limping to a small locker in the rear, opened it, exposing the screen of a teleceiver. He flipped on the switch, tuned it carefully, and in a moment the screen glowed to life. "Hello, this is the shop," called the little man. "Lemme speak to Lactu! This is urgent!"
"The airlock compartment is all right, so the scout ships haven't been touched. They couldn't fire on them without splitting the whole ship down the middle." Johnny leaned forward, flipped on the viewscreen, and an image came into focus. It was a Class I Ranger, and there was no doubt of its origin.
The doctor, notified by the truck's short-wave, was waiting in the admiral's office to give Hanlon the shots of antidote and attend to his wounds. He had barely finished when a waiter brought food. These two gone, Hawarden felt free to demand of Hanlon, "Open up, please. What's this all about?" "Full coverage?" Hanlon asked meaningly. The admiral flipped a couple of toggle switches on his desk.
Amiel, cross-legged on the sand beside her, was whistling gently as he industriously whittled at a bit of driftwood, little suspecting that at the moment he was taking tea in a bower with Lady Ursula. Presently he drew a letter from his pocket and flipped it over to Dorothea. "Your mother asked me to give you this," he said. "She thought it might be from that pretty little friend of yours."
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