Mr. Simpson was sitting in his comfortable office, when his secretary (she had a pretty face and long legs, but when she went off the deep end she could be as strong as an ox)…So, Miss Pretty said that Mr. Rat was eager to see him.

Simpson hated him. I mean, they loved each other like a cat and a dog—and Mr. Simpson was a cat, but a very fat cat, a professional log-sleeper and as angry, if needed, as a tiger. Mr. Rat was not much of a dog, but a real snake in the grass. He tried to look very stupid, and that look got up not only Simpson's nose, but his eyes and ears too.

"Mr… Mr. Simpson… I mean… my family situation…" Rat always had a buzzing and stinging bee in his bonnet about his family situation. This meant, he wanted to borrow some money.

"I see, Mr. Rat, but I should remind you of the fact that you already owe me two thousand dollars. If only you could put your money where your mouth is, then…"

"But I… I have no money… and my mouth… is always very… very hungry. I… will return… I promise…"

"Yeah, pigs are flying to the South."

Mr. Rat was caught by the thought that Simpson was completely crazy, as mad as a March hare. 'He says strange things… he will not give me a cent.' He started running around like a headless chicken.

Mr. Simpson watched his behaviour with some special delight. It was about a year ago that he had found out the influence of idioms on people. 'His panic is evident. He gives himself away.'

"Okay, and how much do you need, then?" he asked Rat with a foxish smile.

"A… a… a thousand, but if you…"

"It's alright. Here's your thousand. Now you owe me… three thousand forty—well, I have my own interest."

"Thank you… thank…" said Mr. Rat, thinking how to pay the incredible debt back.

When he left, there was a special grin on the face of Simpson—a grin of obstinacy, tenacity and self-assurance. It began somewhere at his temples and was his habitual expression, combined with an indispensable sniff. A second later he took the telephone and was talking with the receiver.

"Card? Is that you, you old fool?

…Yes, just now…

…a thousand…

…Well, I doubt…

…a good deal!"

Mr. Simpson was a man with a yellow-coloured greedy streak a mile wide. He was extremely afraid of the idea of parting with his money.

Mr. Card was his friend. They used to bet on Mr. Rat. And in case he didn't return the money, Simpson would win $2,000.

A good deal!

to go off the deep end — to get angry about something not worth of being angry

to fight like a cat and a dog — to argue very strongly

a fat cat — a very rich person who doesn't do any work

a snake in the grass — untrustworthy person

to get up one's nose — to be irritated by a little thing

to have a bee in one's bonnet — to be annoyed, worried or upset

put your money where your mouth is — do what you say

"pigs might fly" — said when you don't believe

as mad as a March hare — completely crazy

to run around like a headless chicken — to panic

to have a yellow streak — to be cowardly