“Suppose,” I suggested coldly, and with some heat, “that you just attend to your own business, which is cheating helpless young people who come in here to buy and sell radio sets.”
Doc looked pained for a moment, then he burst out laughing and slapped me on the back.
“So that’s the way it is!” he roared. Then, in an aside: “All right, you know I take the address and phone number of every customer; there may be a chance for you; hope to goodness there is. She is the kind that would keep a man from loafing around radio stores at night and casting aspersions on the proprietors.”
With that he was gone, back over to where the young man stood frowning at the set he seemingly hated to part with at the price offered. I went back to the girl’s side, a little bolder now after the effect of my first effort.
“Perhaps we can get Frisco, too,” I suggested. “Here, I’ll show you how to go about it.”
With that I took one of her dainty little white hands—it felt as soft and cool as the petal of a rose—and placed it upon the dial. Putting my arm around behind her back I took her other hand and placed it upon the potentiometer.
She colored and laughed prettily, and I colored and trembled frightfully, but, sure enough, after a moment we began to hear squawks which sounded like Frisco. Hurriedly I threw the dials out of adjustment; I had no intention of picking up Frisco so promptly. I wanted it to be a long-drawn out process.
Presently I heard Doc making the concluding remarks with which he always wound up a sale or a purchase, and suddenly, at this juncture the girl, apparently forgetting me, spoke up.
“Well, Dr. Edwards,” she said, “I like this set, but I won’t pay you one cent over fifty dollars for it.” There was an air of very definite finality about her remark, and Doc did one of those surprising things which make it interesting to watch him.
“Sold,” he said, without further quibbling.