“I want a man with St. Vitus's dance.”
“That's me,” said L. J. Wright, and proved it.
“And with an introspective turn of mind. Understand?”
“Not quite,” confessed the cabinet-maker.
“A man who likes to think about himself.”
“I guess I can fill the bill all right,” asserted L. J. Wright, confidently. Sixty a week, all expenses, and a trip to London began to look very attractive.
“Then you're engaged.” The manager nodded.
“I don't know yet what I'm to do,” ventured Wright.
“Nothing, I tell you.”
“Well, I'll do it, then!” And L. J. Wright smiled tentatively; but the manager of the Acme Vibrator Company looked at him seriously—almost reprovingly—and whispered so hoarsely that Wright felt like going after cough-lozenges for him: