"But where are you going to get them?"
"I've got them. You see, sir, I am a sort of speculator. I attend auction sales and that sort of thing, and if I see a big bargain I take advantage of it. It's better than clerking at five dollars a week. A few days ago I struck a bankrupt sale in New York, and bought a lot of plated spoons at 'way below cost. I meant to sell them to the stores here, but I'll let you have them at just what they cost me—you can afford to give them away if you buy them at that price—and there will be plenty to go round."
Mr. Wattles surveyed his companion in amused wonder.
"Well, you are a queer sort of lad," he said. "You seem to have a pretty old head on those young shoulders of yours!"
"I think I have enough to look out for number one, sir."
"I should say you did. I should like to know more of you."
"You will, sir, when I become your advance agent."
"Well, we'll see all about that. And now I'd better be off for the home of the stage-struck mayoress. Meet me in half an hour."
"I'll be here, sir."
As the manager walked away, he muttered: