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Updated: June 21, 2025
To be seen publicly with young Burnit was a step upward, as Mrs. Sharpe saw it, in that forbidding and painful social climb. Bobby started with dismay when Garland stepped to the telephone, but he was fairly caught, and he realized it in time to check the involuntary protest that rose to his lips.
Burnit was trying to redeem that persistent swamp. I am Mr. Platt's sister." "No!" exclaimed Biff in amazement. "You can't be the kid that used to ride on the excavating cars, and go home with yellow clay on your dresses every day." "I'm the kid," said she with a musical laugh; "and I'm afraid I haven't quite outgrown my hoydenish tendencies even yet." Biff had no comment to make.
"I wanted to sell out when I first found that we were competing with Silas Trimmer, and young Burnit kept me from it by an injunction. He offered me ten thousand dollars for my interest once, but this morning when I went to accept that offer he would only give me this five thousand. It's just five thousand dollars that he's robbed me of." "Robbed!" shrilled Johnson, jumping from his chair.
"Payne," said Bobby, "if your father wants to talk with me about the Bulletin he must come himself. Jolter, do you know where the Allstyne properties are?" Jolter looked at Nick and Nick colored. "That's rather a blunt question, under the circumstances, Mr. Burnit," said Jolter, "but I don't see why it shouldn't be answered as bluntly.
He was keenly aware that he had made an ass of himself in business four successive times, and that Jolter knew it. By way of facing the music, however, he showed to his managing editor a letter, left behind with old Johnson for Bobby by the late John Burnit: The mere fact that a man has been foolish four times is no absolute proof that he is a fool; but it's a mighty significant hint.
Burnit, he can get along a great deal better without you than you can without him, as you are probably willing to admit by now. But he still wants you. Go and see Stone." "On what terms will the Consolidated now absorb the Brightlight?" demanded Bobby sternly.
Trimmer's publicity department was already securing column after column of space in the local papers, some of it paid matter and some gratis, wherein it appeared that the son of old John Burnit had proved himself to be a live, progressive young man a worthy heir of so enterprising a father.
No sooner had he come to this decision than he felt a strange sense of elation. He had actually consummated a big business deal! He had made a positive step in the direction of carrying the John Burnit Store beyond the fame it had possessed at the time his father had turned it over to him!
To these latter he took great satisfaction in displaying the gem of his collection of post-mortem letters from old John Burnit: "You don't need to go away from home to be skinned; moreover, it isn't patriotic." That usually stopped them.
In the midst of his dilemma President De Graff of the First National came to him. "I understand you have been trying to borrow some money, Burnit?" It sounded to Bobby as if De Graff had come to gloat over him, since he had been instrumental in dragging De Graff and the First National through the mire. "Yes, sir, I have," he nevertheless answered steadily.
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