He slid his hand into his pocket, withdrawing a leather folder. "Here, we'll take this one with the folding top, but get us a fresh one out of stock."
"We'll make you this carriage up, sir, just as you see it now."
"Make it up! We've got to have it now. To-night!"
"But, sir, we only got these samples made up to show."
"Then we got to buy the sample."
"No, no. My husband ain't home and I—I can't sell the sample. We—"
"But I tell you we got to have it to-night. To-morrow's Sunday and the lady who—"
"No, no. With my husband not here, I can't let go no sample. As a special favor, sir, we'll make you one up in a week."
Miss Dobriner stooped forward, her eyes narrow as slits. "Seventy-five, spot down."
Indecision vanished as rags before Abracadabra.