ord as to the merits of this invention. If you say
it's no good, I'll throw it away and forget about it; if you say it's
good, I'll have no trouble placing it anywhere in the world!"

Well, say! That old guy brightens all up when Alex calls him the
champion shirtmaker of the world, and pickin' up the band, he turns it
over in his hands a few times. You could see that the old salve Alex
handed him had gone big!

"Hmph!" he says, finally. "How much would these things cost me?"

"Roughly speakin', about three cents each," says Alex.

"How long will they stand up under laundering?" is the next question
Calder fires at him.

"They're the only thing that won't come out in the wash!" answers Alex,
without battin' an eye.

The old guy smiles and presses a button. In comes a clerk.

"Send in Mister Lacy, no matter what he's doing, at once!" barks
Calder. He turns to Alex as the clerk flees from the room. "Have you
been anywhere else with this?" he asks.

Alex looks pained.

"Why, Mister Calder!" he says, "certainly not! Before I went any
further I wanted the opinion of the greatest--"

This Lacy guy comes in.

"Mister Lacy is superintendent of our manufacturing department," says
Calder. "I'm going to talk with him for three minutes about the effect
of the war on the onion crop in Beloochistan. I'll send for you at the
expiration of that time. Ah--you can leave the--ah--neckband here!"

"Pardon me!" says Alex, "I have got to be up at the office of the
Evers-Raine Shirt Company at three and I can just about make it."

"What the devil are you going to another shirt company for?" roars
Calder.

"I have an old friend in the--ah--manufacturing department," says Alex,
lookin' straight at him, "who I'm very anxious to see."

Well, they stare at each other for a minute without sayin' a word.
They're both playin' poker, and it's Calder who lays his down first!

"Look here!" he grunts. "I'm going to take an option on this infernal
thing for a week. How much is that worth to you?"

"Ten thousand dollars," answers Alex, pleasantly.

"I'll pay seven and give you a check right now!" says Calder, slammin'
the desk with his fist. "Here, Lacy!" he says to the other guy. "This
is what we'll put on our shirts hereafter, unless I'm very much
mistaken! What do you think of it?"

Lacy picks up the neckband and looks at it.

"And to think," he mutters in an awed voice. "And to think nobody ever
thought of this