”Smith! I am delighted to see you. When did you leave the old North State?”
”On Tuesday last,” I replied, rather taken aback by his familiar cordiality.
”Where are you stopping?” he inquired, bending the corners of my card.
”At the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”
”That is the reason I missed you last night,” he said; ”I did not go higher than the St. Nicholas. Well, I am very glad you’ve come in. Hope you’ll make all your dry goods bill with us. It’s much the best plan to concentrate on a house, and we’ll be sure to do you good. What department will you look through this evening? I used to sell your father a great many goods.”
I begged his pardon, but informed him that my father had never been a merchant, and that I was not merchandising, but had called in to see Mr. Monte, one of the firm.
”You must excuse me,” he said, familiarly patting me on the back, ”I thought you wanted to buy. You want to see Mr. Monte? I expect you’ll have to go to his house, No.—West 34th street. He hardly ever comes here. Bless your soul, he wouldn’t know what to do if he did come. His money is all the house wants. Give him a new dog cart and a pair of ponies and he’s satisfied.”
”Then he is not much of a business man,” I said, for the want of something else to say, as I took down his address.
”Not in this line. He knows how to get in the green room at a theatre, and is a first rate judge of wine; but his connection with us is simply confined to putting in some money every year, and drawing on it like Old Harry the balance of the time.”
”I am very much obliged,” I said, putting up my pencil; ”I will hurry up to his house, if you think I will find him there.”