ales pitch. Suspense was building nicely when Betty put down an empty
glass and unobtrusively pushed the button to cue Nana. Perfect timing.
They apologized to the guests, "We're ashamed to be so old-fashioned but
we feel better if we look in on the boy when he wakes in the night. It
keeps him from forgetting us."

Then they floated off upstairs together, ostensibly to see Nana and
little Bennie.

Fred Stoddard: "Some place they have here, eh? Off-beat. A little too
advanced for my taste, this single dwelling idea, but maybe--Ben sure
must have landed something juicy with Amalgamated to afford this. What
the devil is he pushing, anyway?"

Scoville Wilson (shrug): "Beats me. You know, before dinner I cornered
him at the bar to see if I could slip in a word or two of sell. Damned
if he didn't sign an order for my Cyclo-sell Junior Tape Library without
even a C level resistance. Then he talked a bit about the drinks and I
thought sure he was pushing that new model Barboy. I was all set to come
back with a sincere 'think it over'--and then he took a bottle from the
Barboy, added a dash of vermouth to his drink and walked off without a
word of sell. He always was an odd one."

Lucy Wilson (turns from woman talk with the other two wives): "Oh no! I
knew it wasn't the Barboy set. They wouldn't have him set so slow.
Besides didn't you hear the way she carried on about the nursery and
that lovely Nana? That must have been a build-up, but Ben goofed his
cue to move in on Sco and me for a close. Doesn't Amalgamated handle
those nurseries?"

Tom Bartlett: "Amalgamated makes almost anything. That's the puzzle. I
dunno--but it must be something big. He has to hit us with something,
doesn't he?"

Belle Bartlett: "Who ever heard of a party without a sell?"

Nancy Stoddard: "Who ever heard of a party going past ten without at
least a warm-up pitch? And Betty promised Fred to send both Ben and
Bennie to the Clinic for their Medchecks. You know we have the newest,
finest diagnosticians--"

Fred Stoddard: "Nancy!"

Nancy Stoddard: "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be selling you folks at
_their_ party, should I? Come to think, you're all signed with Fred
anyway, aren't you? Well, about Ben, _I_ think--"

Lucy Wilson: "Sh-h-h! Here they come."

* * * * *

Smiling, charming--and still not an order form in sight--Ben and Betty
got back to their guests. Another half hour. Barboy was passing around
with