This announcement interested the tailor deeply. "Who's going to hire you?" he asked.
"You are."
Kurtz blinked. "Maybe you'd like to bet on that, too," he ventured.
"I'll give you odds."
"Work is one of the few things I haven't tried. You need a good salesman."
"No, I don't. I have seven already."
"Say, wouldn't you like the trade of the whole younger set? I can bring you a lot of fresh customers—fellows like me."
"'Fresh customers' is right," laughed Kurtz, then sobered quickly.
"You're joking, of course?"
"I'm so serious I could cry. How much is it worth to you to make clothes for my crowd?"
"Well—" the tailor considered. "Quite a bit."
"The boys like to see Dick trimmed—it's a matter of principle with them never to let him win a bet—and they'd do anything for me. You're the best tailor in the city, but too conservative. Now I'm going to bring you fifty new accounts, every one good for better than two thousand a year. That's a hundred thousand dollars. How much am I offered? Going! Going!—"