SKINNER LANDS A CURMUDGEON
With his head full of these reflections but without any definite method to accomplish a rather indefinite purpose, Jackson strolled into the lobby of The Hotel the next morning.
"Who is this Skinner that was interviewed?" he asked the chief clerk, whom he had known for a long time.
Glibly the clerk recounted to Jackson all he knew about their guest, who had suddenly become illustrious through the magic touch of the J. Matthews Wilkinsons.
"Point him out to me," said Jackson. "I always like to look over these Eastern guys that know so much that ain't so about us Middle West people."
"The Skinners don't get down to breakfast before ten," said the clerk.
An hour later Jackson strolled in casually and took a chair opposite the desk. Here was an opportunity for the clerk, an opportunity which Jackson had arranged for him without his knowing it. He passed around from behind the desk and intercepted Skinner as he and Honey were about to step into the elevator.
"Mr. Skinner," he said, "I'd like you to meet one of our prominent citizens." He led Skinner over to where the curmudgeon was sitting. "Mr. Skinner, I want you to shake hands with Mr. Willard Jackson."
"How do you do, Mr. Skinner?" said Jackson, rather reservedly; for now that the game was going the way he had designed it should go, he wanted to make it appear that the clerk, and not he, had taken the initiative.
"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Jackson," said Skinner, with his accustomed cordiality.