"Good morning, sir. This is Parker, of Mammalian Blonde Stories. Regarding that last piece you were kind enough to let us have a look at, would $10,000.00 be—"
"Sorry," Harold Worthington Smith said, "I never discuss business matters before breakfast. Call me back later."
Click.
"Harold," his wife called from the foot of the stairs, "there's an editor outside."
"Another one?"
"Yes. Shall I let him in?"
"I suppose so. Tell him I'll try to give him a minute while I'm having my coffee."
He stacked the checks neatly and placed them on the large pile of checks to the right of the gold typewriter. He made a mental note to try to make the bank today. Checks were a nuisance when you let too many of them accumulate. He threw the three long thin envelopes into the wastebasket marked "Long Thin Envelopes." It was full again, he noticed. He could have sworn he'd just emptied it a day or two ago.
His wife came running up the stairs. "Harold, two more editors just drove up! Shall I let them in, too?"
"You might as well," Harold Worthington Smith said. "If you don't, they'll just hang around the door all day and make a nuisance of themselves." He looked at her critically. She'd come through remarkably well. If anything she was even better stacked than she'd been before. "Tell them I'll be down presently, princess. And put some clothes on. For now," he added.