It happened just like I thought it would. I hadn't more than struck the fourth or fifth tap before the door was opened by the finest little woman you ever saw. She had a worried lock on her face, but when she saw me the clouds rolled away an' she smiled clear into my heart. She was a real lady—it stuck out all over her, like a keep-off-the-grass sign.
"Are you the man?" sez she.
"Well, I'm one of 'em," sez I.
"You know I sent clear to San Francisco for a man," sez she, "an' I suppose you're the man."
"To tell you the honest truth," sez I, "I was so preoccupied in Frisco that I clean forgot to stop around for my mail, but as long as we're conversin' on this subject, I'll just be bold enough to say 'at I'll take the job, without askin' what it is."
"Have you had a wide experience?" sez she.
"Wide?" sez I. "Wide, only just begins to give you a hint at it. I ain't filled with the lust of vanity, nor I ain't overly much given to tootin' my own horn; but in my humble an' modest way I guarantee to be able to do anything on this good, green earth 'at don't require a book edication."
"Can I trust you?" sez she, lookin' into my face mighty searchin'.
"If you sell me anything," sez I, smilin' as near like a baby as I could, "you'll have to trust me, 'cause I'm dead broke." She just stood an' looked in through my face; an' I tell ya, boys, I was mighty glad that in all this rip-snortin' world the' wasn't one single woman who could rise up an' say that I hadn't played fair. She kept on lookin' into me, until I knew she was readin' everything I had ever done or said or thought, an' the sweat was tricklin' down my back like meltin' snow.
"Yes," she sez finally, "I can trust you."