"Well, upon my word! This is indeed somewhat—that is to say it is, as it were—it looks—it looks a little like one of our own certificates."
"Just so," said Keyser. "That old rod was one of Bolt & Burnam's. You sold it to my son-in-law; you gave this certificate; you swore the points were platinum, and your man put it up."
"Then I suppose we can't trade?"
"Well, I should think not," said Keyser. Whereupon the man mounted the red wagon and moved on.
* * * * *
When Benjamin P. Gunn, the life insurance agent, called upon Mr.
Butterwick, the following conversation ensued:
Gunn. "Mr. Butterwick, you have no insurance on your life, I believe? I dropped in to see if I can't get you to go into our company. We offer unparalleled inducements, and—"
Butterwick. "I don't want to insure."
Gunn. "The cost is just nothing worth speaking of; a mere trifle. And then we pay enormous dividends, so that you have so much security at such a little outlay that you can be perfectly comfortable and happy."
Butterwick. "But I don't want to be comfortable and happy. I'm trying to be miserable."