with a purpose.
Emma McChesney knew the value of a smartly tailored suit in a business
argument.

T. A. Buck canceled his order at the tailor's, made up his own line for
the Middle West, and prepared to storm that prosperous and important
territory for the first time in his business career.

The South American boat sailed Saturday afternoon. Saturday morning
found the two partners deep in one of those condensed, last-minute
discussions. Mrs. McChesney opened a desk drawer, took out a
leather-covered pocket notebook, and handed it to Buck. A tiny smile
quivered about her lips. Buck took it, mystified.

"Your last diary?"

"Something much more important. I call it 'The Salesman's Who's Who.'
Read it as you ought your Bible."

"But what?" Buck turned the pages wonderingly. He glanced at a
paragraph, frowned, read it aloud, slowly.

"Des Moines, Iowa, Klein & Company. Miss Ella Sweeney, skirt buyer.
Old girl. Skittish. Wants to be entertained. Take her to dinner and
the theater."

He looked up, dazed. "Good Lord, what is this? A joke?"

"Wait until you see Ella; you won't think it's a joke. She'll buy only
your smoothest numbers, ask sixty days' dating, and expect you to
entertain her as you would your rich aunt."

Buck returned to the little book dazedly. He flipped another
leaf--another. Then he read in a stunned sort of voice:

"Sam Bloom, Paris Emporium, Duluth. See Sadie."

He closed the book. "Say, see here, Emma, do you mean to----"

"Sam is the manager," interrupted Mrs. McChesney pleasantly, "and he
thinks he does the buying, but the brains of that business is a little
girl named Sadie Harris. She's a wonder. Five years from now, if she
doesn't marry Sam, she'll be one of those ten-thousand-a-year foreign
buyers. Play your samples up to Sammy, but quote your prices down to
Sadie. Read the next one, T. A."

Buck read on, his tone lifeless:

"Miss Sharp. Berg Brothers, Omaha. Strictly business. Known among
the trade as the human cactus. Canceled a ten-thousand-dollar order
once because the grateful salesman called her 'girlie.' Stick to
skirts."

Buck slapped the book smartly against the palm of his hand.

"Do you mean to tell me that you made this book out for me? Do you
mean to say that I have to cram on this like a kid studying for exams?
That I'll have to cater to the personality of the person I'm selling
to? Why--it's--it's----"

Emma McChesney nod