I stared in dismay at the bald gentleman, unable to recall a word of what I meant to say; and he stared in impatience at me.
"Well, well!" he snapped, "What is it? What is it?"
That reminded me.
"It's the 'Boston Searchlight,' sir. I take sub—"
"Take it away—take it away. We're busy here." He waved me away over his shoulder, the back of his head once more presented to me.
I stole out of the room in great confusion. Was that the way I was going to be received? Why, Mr. James had said nobody would hesitate to subscribe. It was the best paper in Boston, the "Searchlight," and no business man could afford to be without it. I must have made some blunder. Was "Mortgages and Bonds" a business? I'd never heard of it, and very likely I had spoken to C. Jenkins Smith. I must try again—of course I must try again.
I selected a real estate office next. A real estate broker, I knew for certain, was a business man. Mr. George A. Hooker must be just waiting for the "Boston Searchlight."
Mr. Hooker was indeed waiting, and he was telling "Central" about it.
"Yes, Central; waiting, waiting—What?—Yes, yes; ring four—What's that?—Since when?—Why didn't you say so at first, then, instead of keeping me on the line—What?—Oh, is that so? Well, never mind this time, Central.—I see, I see.—All right."
I had become so absorbed in this monologue that when Mr. Hooker swung around on me in his revolving chair I was startled, feeling that I had been caught eavesdropping. I thought he was going to rebuke me, but he only said, "What can I do for you, Miss?"