"I'm perfectly dippy about waltzin'," says 'Dolph. "By the way, won't you have some confectionery? These chocolates are pretty fair."
I riz to my feet. I don't mind bein' a philanthropist once in a while, but I like to do my philanthropin' fust-hand. And them chocolates sold for sixty cents a pound!
I had my hand on the doorknob. Just as I turned it I heard the young woman say, crisp and cold as a fresh cucumber:
"Pardon me, but will your employer be in soon? If not I'll call again—when he is in."
"You won't have to," says I, steppin' out of the post-office room and walkin' over toward the candy counter. "One of him's in now. 'Dolph, you can put them chocolates back in the case. Oh, yes—and you might associate yourself with the broom and waltz out and sweep the front platform. It's been needin' your cultivated society bad."
The rest of that clerk's face turned as red as his mustache, and the way he slammed the chocolate box into the showcase was a caution! Then I turned to the young woman, who was as sober as a deacon, except for her eyes, which were snappin' with fun, and says I:
"You wanted to see me, I believe, miss. My name's Zebulon Snow and I'm one of the partners in this jay place. What can I do for you?"
She waited until 'Dolph and the broom had moved out to the platform. Then she turned to me and she says:
"Captain Snow," she says, "I understand that your firm here is intendin' puttin' in a bid for the window screens at the new hotel at West Ostable. Is that so?"
I was consider'ble surprised, but I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't tell the truth.