ator
going down. When, at that same message, he can smile, as with a
certain grim agreeableness he says, "I'll wait," then has he
reached the seventh stage, and taken the orders of the regularly
ordained.

Jock McChesney had learned to judge an unknown prospective by
glancing at his hall rug and stenographer, which marks the fifth
stage. He had learned to regard office boys with something less
than white-hot hate. He had learned to let the other fellow do the
talking. He had learned to condense a written report into
twenty-five words. And he had learned that there was as much
difference between the profession of advertising as he had thought
of it and advertising as it really was, as there is between a
steam calliope and a cathedral pipe organ.

In the big office of the Berg, Shriner Advertising Company they
had begun to chuckle a bit over the McChesney solicitor's reports.
Those same reports indicated that young McChesney was beginning to
find the key to that maddening jumble of complexities known as
human nature. Big Sam Hupp, who was the pet caged copy-writing
genius of the place, used even to bring an occasional example of
Jock's business badinage into the Old Man's office, and the two
would grin in secret. As when they ran thus:

_Pepsinale Manufacturing Company_:

Mr. Bowser is the kind of gentleman who curses his
subordinates in front of the whole office force. Very touchy.
Crumpled his advertising manager. Our chance to get at him is
when he is in one of his rare good humors.

Or:

_E.V. Kreiss Company_:

Kreiss very difficult to reach. Permanent address seems to be
Italy, Egypt, and other foreign ports. Occasionally his
instructions come from Palm Beach.

At which there rose up before the reader a vision of Kreiss
himself--baggy-eyed, cultivated English accent, interested in
polo, fast growing contemptuous of things American.

Or still another:

_Hodge Manufacturing Company:_

Mr. Hodge is a very conservative gentleman. Sits still and
lets others do the talking. Has gained quite a reputation for
business acumen with this one attribute. Spent $500 last year.
Holding his breath preparatory to taking another plunge.

It was about the time that Jock McChesney had got over the novelty
of paying for his own clothes, and had begun to talk business in a
slightly patronizing way to his clever and secretly amused mother,
Mrs. Emma McChesney, secre