“Me? Oh, I’m in half a dozen things. What’s your name?”
“Frank Hardy. What’s yours?”
“Gabe Flecker. I’m buying up butter on commission just now.”
“For a New York house?”
“Yes—the Gasson & Flecker Company. Flecker is my uncle. Do you know anybody who has butter to sell?”
“No.”
“We’ll pay the best price,” went on Gabe Flecker, handing out a card. “Tell your friends around here to write to us, and send us their butter on commission.”
Frank slipped the card into his pocket and mounted his wheel again.
“Guess I’ll have to get a wheel,” said Gabe Flecker. “It’s better than walking.”
“You are right there,” answered the young book agent, and in a moment more he was out of hearing.