“I don't mind letting you into a secret,” said Benton, affably, “if you won't mention it. I've been using some of the six weeks' stuff.”
“The what?” asked Paul, opening his eyes.
“Haven't you heard of it?” inquired Benton, a little contemptuously. “Where have you been living all your life? Haven't you seen it advertised,—warranted to produce a full set of whiskers or moustaches upon the smoothest face, etc. I got some a week ago, only a dollar. Five weeks from now you'll see something that'll astonish you.”
Paul was not a little amused by his new companion, and would have laughed, but that he feared to offend him.
“You'd better get some,” said Mr. Benton. “I'll let you just try mine once, if you want to.”
“Thank you,” said Paul; “I don't think I want to have a moustache just yet.”
“Well, perhaps you're right. Being a boy, perhaps it wouldn't be advisable.”
“When does Mr. Smith come in?”
“Not till nine.”
“And the other clerks?”