"I am Wilberforce Jenkins, the Who's What and Why man, Major," said I.
"Well—say, old man," said he, with a pleasant touch of enthusiasm in his voice, "I'm mighty glad to hear from you. That's A-1 stuff you are running in the Blank. Did you get my letter?"
"Yes," said I. "That's why I am ringing you up."
"Good!" said he. "Ready to talk turkey, are you?"
"Well—I don't know about that, Major," said I hesitatingly. "Of course I know who you are, and the kind of things you do; but—well, to be quite frank with you, I don't know whether I want to do business with you or not."
"Oh!" said the major. "That's it, is it? Well—what seems to be the matter?"
"Oh, nothing much," said I. "Only I was talking with a man about you the other day, and from one or two things he said—"
"What did he say?" the major blurted out.
"Well, to begin with, he said you were an old palaverer," said I. "He intimated that there was a good deal of what you might call hatwork in the quality of your conversation. He said he'd done business with you once, and while he liked you personally you were not all you seemed to think you were as an impresario."
"Who the deuce ever told you that?" demanded the major. "You say he did business with me once?"