on_.

Regarding .... _The price of petrified noodles in Siberia_.

"There," he says, handin' it to the girl without a smile, "give that to
Mister Munson."

She takes it in without lookin' at it.

"Well, you crabbed any chance you might of had, right off the bat!" I
says to Alex. "He'll get so sore when he reads that, he won't even let
you in."

"Let him get sore!" chirps Alex. "He'll not only get sore, he'll get
curious and then again I'm figurin' on him bein' human, besides bein'
general manager and havin' a sense of humor! He's probably been
pestered with auto salesmen all day--if I wrote my real business on
that card he'd send word he was out. As it is, he'll read it and he
won't be able to resist the, now, temptation to get one look at a
feller which would want to know from a man in his position the price of
petrified noodles in Siberia. No matter what happens afterwards, he'll
want one look--wouldn't you?"

Before I can answer, the dame comes out laughin'.

"Step in," she says. "Mister Munson will see you."

"Now!" hisses Alex, as we ease in on the velvet carpet. "Watch how _I_
go about sellin' autos. Y'see I got a nibble already because I was
new! I--Howdy, Mister Munson!"

We was in the private office.

Munson was a little, keen-faced guy--bald, nervous and fat. He looks
up over his glasses with Alex's card in his hand--and Alex looks back.
In one second they had each found out all they wanted to know about the
other.

"What's the meaning of this nonsense?" barks Munson.

Alex walks over to the desk, wets his lips and gets goin'.

"Mister Munson," he says, "if you called on a man at his office, would
you care to write your business on a card for the office boy to read?
No--you would not! A big man like you would probably tear the card up,
leave the office in a, now, rage and never return! You'd be insulted,
your, now, dignity would be hurt, eh? You might be from out of town
and comin' here to leave a big order and that little thing--prob'ly
invented by one of your New York efficiency stars--would make you so
mad you'd go away and order where they wasn't so efficient, but a
little more courteous! Look at that card--the, now, wordin' of it.
Look how cold and hard it is! No warmth, no 'glad-to-see-you-stranger
what-can-my-house-do-for-you?' about it. It's like a slap in the face!
Maybe it does keep the panhandlers away, but did you ever figure how
many orders it must have cost yo