About half-past seven they halted before one of those palaces devoted to trade that abound in all their glory on the principal thoroughfare of the city of New York.
Duncan & Mishler were importers, as has been mentioned, and this was their wholesale store.
Carlos paid the hackman, and, walking up to a short flight of stone steps, met a porter with a feather duster in his hand. He was just about finishing his work of sweeping and dusting the store in preparation for the day’s business.
“Good-morning,” said Carlos. “I suppose Mr. Duncan is not here yet this morning.”
“No, sir,” replied the porter. “He won’t be down till nine o’clock.”
Carlos paused a moment in hesitation.
“Did you have a good trip, sir?” asked the porter.
“A good trip?” echoed Carlos, not certain of the man’s meaning.
“Yes, sir. I mean did you sell many goods?”
It immediately struck Carlos that the porter mistook him for one of the traveling agents, or “drummers” of the establishment. He resolved to humor the error.