"Huxley?" said Mrs. Jackson. "No. It's not Huxley, Woody. The last book she had was called, I think, The Philosophy of Salesmanship. She's become very interested in selling lately. Last night she gave her father quite a questioning on whether he was carrying sufficient insurance."
"Oh," groaned Woody. "Well, thanks, Mrs. Jackson."
"Shall I tell her you'll call again when she comes in?" Mrs. Jackson asked.
"No," said Woody. "I don't think I will, Mrs. Jackson."
"All right," said Mrs. Jackson. "I think I understand."
The next day Steve called him up. Steve was worried about Woody's attitude, which was very gloomy, and had devised a plan that he hoped would cheer him up.
"Listen," he said. "Got a real good deal for us. There's a tech inspection for the sports cars for the Torrey Pines race tonight. How about going along? Lots of cars of all kinds. Ferraris, Maseratis, Austin Healeys, Jags, TR2's. What d'ya say?"
"Mickey Mouse stuff," was Woody's reply.
"What d'ya mean, Mickey Mouse stuff?" demanded Steve.
"There isn't enough horsepower in any one of them to go over a cardboard box without changing gears," said Woody scornfully.