Encouraged by his forbearance, I said:—
"Would you like to subscribe to the 'Boston Searchlight,' sir?"—"Sir" was safer, after all.—"It's a dollar a year."
I was supposed to say that it was the best paper in Boston, etc., but Mr. Hooker did not look interested, though he was not cross.
"No, thank you, Miss; no new papers for me. Excuse me, I am very busy." And he began to dictate to a stenographer.
Well, that was not so bad. Mr. Hooker was at least polite. I must try to make a better speech next time. I stuck to real estate now. O'Lair & Kennedy were both in, in my next office, and both apparently enjoying a minute of relaxation, tilted back in their chairs behind a low railing. Said I, determined to be businesslike at last, and addressing myself to the whole firm:—
"Would you like to subscribe to the 'Boston Searchlight?' It's a very good paper. No business man can afford it—afford to be without it, I mean. It's only a dollar a year."
Both men smiled at my break, and I smiled, too. I wondered would they subscribe separately, or would they take one copy for the firm.
"The 'Boston Searchlight,'" repeated one of the partners. "Never heard of it. Is that the paper you have there?"
He unfolded the paper I gave him, looked over it, and handed it to his partner.
"Ever heard of the 'Searchlight,' O'Lair? What do you think—can we afford to be without it?"