"Why, yes; of course. The Eureka people wrote you that they had given me the agency, didn't they?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"They wrote my partner and me," I stammered, "that they'd given it to—to a feller named George—er—that is—"
"Not George—Georgianna. Oh, I see! They abbreviated the name and so you thought—Of course you did. How odd!"
She laughed. I'd have laughed too, maybe, if I'd had sense enough to think of it; but I hadn't, just then.
"You the agent!" says I. "A—a woman!"
"Yes."
"But—but a woman!"
"Well?" pretty crisp. "I admit I am a woman; but is that any reason why I should not sell window screens?"
I rubbed my forehead some more. These are progressive days we're livin' in, and sometimes I have to hustle to keep abreast of 'em.