Mrs. Kettle, who was a placid lady of mature flesh and many teeth, and who carried ounces upon ounces of diamonds without visible effort, bewailed the innovation that Miss Purry was forcing on them, but felt a righteous glow that, under the circumstances, they were doing so nobly on behalf of Mrs. Slosher.

Mrs. Mason, who was a little, dry, jerky woman whose skin creaked when she rubbed it, whose voice scratched and whose whole personality suggested the rasp of saw-filing, was in her own confession actuated by less affectionate motives.

“I’m glad of it!” she snapped.  “Mrs. Slosher is always talking about their superb river view and the general superiority of the Slosher location, the Slosher residence, the Slosher everything!  I’m glad of it!”

The other ladies felt that Mrs. Mason was very catty.

At four o’clock that afternoon Johnny entered in his book: 

“May third.  To seven hours—­nine hours behind schedule—­$35,000.  To Purry speculation, $210,000.”

To offset this was: 

“May third.  To a chance, $0.”

CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH JOHNNY EXECUTES SOME EXCEEDINGLY RAPID BUSINESS DEALS

Sitting tight and watching the hands of his watch go round, with a deficit of five thousand dollars an hour piling up against him, was as hard work as Johnny Gamble had ever done; and yet he knew that, if he succumbed to impatience and went to the De Luxe Apartments Company before they came to him, he would relinquish a fifty per cent, advantage.  He saw another day slipping past him, with a total deficit of sixteen hours behind his schedule—­or an appalling shortage of eighty thousand dollars—­when, at one o’clock on Thursday, the expected happened—­and a brisk little man, with a mustache which would have been highly luxuriant if he had not kept it bitten off as closely as he could reach it, dropped in, inquired for Loring, jerked a chair as close to him as he could get it and said, in one breath:  “Want to sell your river-view property?”

“Certainly,” replied Loring, in whose name the property stood.  “Mr. Gamble is handling that for me.  Mr. Chase, Mr. Gamble.”

Mr. Chase, holding to his chair, jumped up, hurried over to Johnny and once more jerked the chair close up.

“How much do you want for it?” he asked.

“Two hundred and seventy-five thousand.”

“Too much.  I understand it’s restricted to apartment-house purposes alone?”

“Yes.”

“Not less than ten stories, and a minimum rental of three thousand dollars a suite?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t sell it for that price with those restrictions.”

“We can build on it,” replied Johnny calmly.

“You won’t,” asserted Mr. Chase with equal conviction.  “You bought it to sell.  I’ll give you two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“No,” refused Johnny quite bravely, though with a panicky feeling as he thought of that appallingly swift schedule.