"I guess we'll make out somehow," replied Mr. O'Lair, handing me back my paper. "But I'll buy this copy of you, Miss," he added, from second thoughts.
"And I'll go partner on the bargain," said Mr. Kennedy.
But I objected.
"This is a sample," I said; "I don't sell single papers. I take subscriptions for the year. It's one dollar."
"And no business man can afford it, you know." Mr. Kennedy winked as he said it, and we all smiled again. It would have been stupid not to see the joke.
"I'm sorry I can't sell my sample," I said, with my hand on the doorknob.
"That's all right, my dear," said Mr. Kennedy, with a gracious wave of the hand. And his partner called after me, "Better luck next door!"
Well, I was getting on! The people grew friendlier all the time. But I skipped "next door"; it was "Mortgages and Bonds." I tried "Insurance."
"The best paper in Boston, is it?" remarked Mr. Thomas F. Dix, turning over my sample. "And who told you that, young lady?"
"Mr. James," was my prompt reply.