Jack [sinks into chair]: The dearest thing in boots! And now I’ve made her so mad that she’ll never speak to me again. All over a measely half-size in slippers. Who’d think a girl could be so silly!
Mr. Wilson: Eight women out of ten want boots too small for them and won’t take anything else. That’s why women can endure pain better than men; they get used to it, breaking in tight shoes.
Jack: The Chinese have nothing on them, believe me! [Shakes finger at father.] And you old fraud you, you side in with them and then later on sell them corn plasters and bunion-easers and arch-supports and all the rest of the instruments of torture.
Mr. Wilson: That’s the great idea, my son. You’re learning fast. But you must confess that my method is better than sending a customer away angry, and it has put you through college, besides, remember that.
Jack: I do, dad. Rule number six—always tell a woman that you’re sure she takes a half-size smaller boot than you know she does.
Mr. Wilson: That’s it. As a rule it tickles them all to pieces. And you get their money and their good-will to boot. [Bell tinkles.] Here’s another customer. Better luck this time. [Exit Mr. Wilson. Jack busies himself at table.]
Enter Miss Firmrock.
Jack: How do you do, Miss Firmrock, and what can I do for you today?
Miss Firmrock: Young man, before I buy anything from you, I must know how you stand on the woman suffrage question. Do you believe that women should take an active part in politics now that they are given the vote?