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Updated: June 24, 2025
On the job, however, no matter what it might be, Jimmie could never be induced to do real, hard work. He was always above it, or busy with something else. But as he was an expert cement-mixer and knew just how to load and unload the tool-car, two sinecures of sorts, nothing was ever said to him. Yeh! I know-a my biz. I been now with Misha Rook fifteen year. I know-a my biz."
Stott called to him, "will you give me the address of that milliner whose hats you said you liked particularly? Somewhere on Walnut, wasn't it?" "Sixteenth and Walnut," Wallie replied, shortly. "What do you think I'm doing, Wallie?" "I can't imagine, Mrs. Budlong." "I'm rolling!" "Rolling?" "To reduce. C. D. says I look like a cement-mixer in action." Wallie was annoyed by the confidence.
Then he summoned architects from all over the country who, to his delight, spent hours in the office of the Westley Cement-Mixer Manufacturing Company trying to outdo one another in finesse and suavity. Fortunately he decided upon a man who had genius as well as tact, who, without his knowing it, could quietly bend old Peter Westley to his way of thinking.
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