That's an awful price," said I, "_an awful price_."

"Well, let me take them around to Tescheron. My price to him will
be three thousand dollars, and I know from the prices Smith is
getting that he'll pay. Glad to see you improving. Anything in my
line, Mr. Hopkins, would be pleased to hear from you; old
established house--"

"Sit down! Sit down, Obreeon! I'll split the difference with you
and let you have my check." I touched a button and requested that
my new handbag containing my checkbook and fountain pen be
brought. Thank goodness, my bank account had not burned and my
reputation might yet be saved.

"No, Mr. Hopkins, I am favoring you, really I am, in this matter,
you know, and I could not--I could not cut that price."

What was the use? It almost cleaned me out, but I never hankered
after money if it meant publicity. You may say it was only a fad or
fancy of mine. I drew my check for $1,000 of hard-earned cash,
slowly gathered by years of saving out of a small salary, and gave
it to him, making sure I had the goods and extra fittings.

Mr. Obreeon started for home with warm feet and a remarkably steady
gait.

Well, I never thought any letters of mine would bring that sum in
the open market, and as for Jim's hair, I had known him to pay a
quarter to have a lot of it cut off and thrown away.

I did a little figuring with my pen after Obreeon left. Taking the
hairs and letters combined, they cost me an average price of $5.55.
I worked it out this way:

162--of my letters.
18--of Jim's hairs.
----
180--total hairs and letters.

You then divide $1,000 by 180 to ascertain the average price of $5.55.

Or, if you want to get at the price of each hair, counting the letters
as dead stock, you grasp at a glance that the hairs are just 10 per
cent, of the outfit, so you divide 180 by 10, and that gives you 18;
take this amount and you run it into $1,000, and you get the price per
hair as $55.55. When you arrive at this answer you may note that you
might have obtained it by multiplying the average price by ten. In other
words, the hair, if entirely loose from the poetry, costs ten times as
much. To get at the price of the poetry loose from the hair, you simply
divide $1,000 by 162, the number of letters, and that gives you $6.17 as
the price of each letter, wholly disregarding the hair. It will be seen,
therefore, that the commodity of highest value in an ordinary love
correspondence, such as this w