“Money talks,” said Mr. Thwing, “and so do you. I have a score of letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you.”
“I had no intention—” Quincy began.
“You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the grocery business in a big way?”
“Rather.”
“'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption.”
“I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business.”
“Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty nights?”
Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any city or town where he had a store.
Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. “Why, the men who want you to come live where the stores are.”
“I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to hear me they'll come.”