He leaned over me and whispered.
“Neither, my boy. We are going to give can-openers away, free gratis!”
“They ought to go well at that price,” I suggested.
“One nickel-plated Perkins Can-opener free with every can of our goods. At all grocers,” said Perkins, ignoring my remark.
“Well, then,” I said, for I caught his idea, “what are we going to put in the cans?”
“What do people put in cans now?” asked Perkins.
I thought for a moment.
“Oh!” I said, “tomatoes and peaches and com, sardines, and salmon, and—”
“Yes!” Perkins broke in, “and codfish, and cod-liver oil, and kerosene oil, and cottonseed-oil, and axle-grease and pie! Everything! But what don't they put in cans?”
I couldn't think of a thing. I told Perkins so. He smiled and made a large circle in the air with his right forefinger.