negotiations fail."

He handed her the first sheaf of papers. But, before she began to
read: "I'll say this much. Miss Sharp, of Berg Brothers, Omaha--the
one you warned against as the human cactus--had me up for dinner.
Well, I know you don't, but it's true. Her father and I hit it off
just like that. He's a character, that old boy. Ever meet him? No?
And Miss Sharp told me something about herself that explains her
porcupine pose. That poor child was engaged to a chap who was killed
in the Spanish-American war, and she----"

"Kate Sharp!" interrupted Emma McChesney. "Why, T. A. Buck, in all her
vinegary, narrow life, that girl has never had a beau, much less----"

Buck's eyebrows came up slightly.

"Emma McChesney, you haven't developed--er--claws, have you?"

With a gasp, Emma McChesney plunged into the papers before her. For ten
minutes, the silence of the room was unbroken except for the crackling
of papers. Then Emma McChesney put down the first sheaf and looked up
at her business partner.

"Is that a fair sample?" she demanded.

"Very," answered T. A. Buck, and handed her another set.

Another ten minutes of silence. Emma McChesney reached out a hand for
still another set of papers. The pink of repressed excitement was
tinting her cheeks.

"They're--they're all like this?"

"Practically, yes."

Mrs. McChesney faced him, her eyes wide, her breath coming fast.

"T. A. Buck," she slapped the papers before her smartly with the back
of her hand, "this means you've broken our record for Middle Western
sales!"

"Yes," said T. A., quietly. "Dad would have enjoyed a morning like
this, wouldn't he?"

Emma McChesney stood up.

"Enjoyed it! He is enjoying it. Don't tell me that T. A., Senior,
just because he is no longer on earth, has failed to get the joy of
knowing that his son has realized his fondest dreams. Why, I can feel
him here in this room, I can see those bright brown eyes of his
twinkling behind his glasses. Not know it! Of course he knows it."

Buck looked down at the desk, smiling curiously.

"D'you know, I felt that way, too."

Suddenly Emma McChesney began to laugh. It was not all mirth--that
laugh. Buck waited.

"And to think that I--I kindly and patronizingly handed you a little
book full of tips on how to handle Western buyers, 'The Salesman's
Who's Who'--I, who used to think I was the witch of the West when it
came to selling! You, on your first selling-trip, ha