"We _are_ responsible for a dreadful lot of creatures being
born," she said. "It makes one breathless to think of the
responsibility."
"The ranch certainly spells fecundity," Graham smiled. "I never before
was so impressed with the flowering and fruiting of life. Everything
here prospers and multiplies--"
"Oh!" Paula cried, breaking in with a sudden thought. "Some day I'll
show you my goldfish. I breed them, too--yea, and commercially. I
supply the San Francisco dealers with their rarest strains, and I even
ship to New York. And, best of all, I actually make money--profits, I
mean. Dick's books show it, and he is the most rigid of bookkeepers.
There isn't a tack-hammer on the place that isn't inventoried; nor a
horse-shoe nail unaccounted for. That's why he has such a staff of
bookkeepers. Why, do you know, calculating every last least item of
expense, including average loss of time for colic and lameness, out of
fearfully endless columns of figures he has worked the cost of an
hour's labor for a draught horse to the third decimal place."
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