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 you, hey?" 

 Munson has listened to every word, first with a heavy frown and then with a kind of thoughtful look on his face. He taps the desk with a lead pencil, reads the card a couple of times and then slams his fist on the desk. 

 "By Peter, young man!" he snaps out suddenly, "you may be right! The wording of that office blank is rather insulting, now that I dissect it—been too busy before to notice it. Yes, sir, I would 

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