“They ought, ought they?  Then why the devil—­my name is not Bryerson, by the way—­why the mischief didn’t the compa—­why what in the nation ever became of the appropriation?  Where is that appropriation?—­if a stockholder may make so bold as to ask.”

The appropriation?—­that paltry $200,000, do you mean?”

“Of course—­but I didn’t know that $200,000 was so very paltry.  Though I grant, of course, that it is not a large sum, strictly speaking.  But where is it?”

“My dear sir, you surprise me.  You surely cannot have had a large acquaintance with this sort of thing.  Otherwise you would not have expected much of a result from a mere initial appropriation like that.  It was never intended for anything but a mere nest egg for the future and real appropriations to cluster around.”

“Indeed?  Well, was it a myth, or was it a reality?  Whatever become of it?”

“Why the—­matter is simple enough.  A Congressional appropriation costs money.  Just reflect, for instance—­a majority of the House Committee, say $10,000 apiece—­$40,000; a majority of the Senate Committee, the same each—­say $40,000; a little extra to one or two chairman of one or two such committees, say $10,000 each—­$20,000; and there’s $100,000 of the money gone, to begin with.  Then, seven male lobbyists, at $3,000 each —­$21,000; one female lobbyist, $10,000; a high moral Congressman or Senator here and there—­the high moral ones cost more, because they. give tone to a measure—­say ten of these at $3,000 each, is $30,000; then a lot of small-fry country members who won’t vote for anything whatever without pay—­say twenty at $500 apiece, is $10,000; a lot of dinners to members—­say $10,000 altogether; lot of jimcracks for Congressmen’s wives and children—­those go a long way—­you can’t sped too much money in that line—­well, those things cost in a lump, say $10,000—­along there somewhere; and then comes your printed documents—­your maps, your tinted engravings, your pamphlets, your illuminated show cards, your advertisements in a hundred and fifty papers at ever so much a line —­because you’ve got to keep the papers all light or you are gone up, you know.  Oh, my dear sir, printing bills are destruction itself.  Ours so far amount to—­let me see—­10; 52; 22; 13;—­and then there’s 11; 14; 33 —­well, never mind the details, the total in clean numbers foots up $118,254.42 thus far!”

“What!”

“Oh, yes indeed.  Printing’s no bagatelle, I can tell you.  And then there’s your contributions, as a company, to Chicago fires and Boston fires, and orphan asylums and all that sort of thing—­head the list, you see, with the company’s full name and a thousand dollars set opposite —­great card, sir—­one of the finest advertisements in the world—­the preachers mention it in the pulpit when it’s a religious charity—­one of the happiest advertisements in the world is your benevolent donation.  Ours have amounted to sixteen thousand dollars and some cents up to this time.”