"Well, what of it?" says he.

"I want to use you as Exhibit A," says I, "in case of an emergency."

"All right," says he. "I'll go along if you say so."

"Good!" says I. And then came the hard part. "Rowley," I goes on, "what
size collar do you wear?"

"But what has that to do with it?" says he.

"Now don't get peeved," says I; "but you know the kind our directors
are,--flossy, silk-lined old sports, most of 'em; and they're apt to
size up strangers a good deal by their haberdashery. So I was wonderin'
if I couldn't blow you to a neat, pleated bosom effect with attached
cuffs."

"Oh, I see," says Rowley, glancin' at his gray flannel workin' shirt.
"Anything else?"

"I don't expect you'd want to part with that face shrubbery, or have it
landscaped into a Vandyke, eh?" says I. "You know they ain't wearin' the
bushy kind now in supertax circles."

"Would you insist on my being manicured too?" says he, chucklin' easy.

"It would help," says I. "And this would be my buy all round."

"That's a generous offer, Son," says he, "and I don't know how long it's
been since anyone has taken so much personal interest in Old Hen Rowley.
Seems nice too. I suppose I am rather a shabby old duffer to be visiting
the offices of great and good corporations. Yes, I'll spruce up a bit;
and if I find it costs more than I can afford--now let's see how my cash
stands."

With that he digs into a hip pocket and unlimbers a roll of corn-tinted
kale the size of your wrist. Maybe they wa'n't all hundreds clear to the
core, but that's what was on the outside.

"Whiffo!" says I. "Excuse me for classin' you so near the bread line;
but by your campin' in a loft, and the longshoreman's shirt, and so
on----"

"Very natural, Son," he breaks in. "And I see your point all the
clearer. I've no business going about so. The whiskers shall be trimmed.
But your people up at the Corrugated have evidently made up their minds
to turn us down."

"Maybe," says I; "but if they do, it won't be on any snap decision of
Briscoe's. And unless I get tongue tied at the last minute we're goin'
to have a run for our money."

That was what worried me most,--could I come across with the standin'
spiel? But, believe me, I wa'n't trustin' to any offhand stuff! I'd got
to know in advance what I meant to feed 'em, line for line and word for
word. By ten o'clock that night I had it all down on paper too--and
perhaps I didn't chew the penholder and leak some from th