Spate's voice came from an ambush of spectacles and whiskers: "I've lived here all m' life—I'm sixty-three next month. I don't remember any such man or boy."
"Me, neither," echoed Soyer, "and I'm here going on thirty-five year."
The heads shook along the line as if a wind had passed over a row of wheat.
"It's some new dodge for sellin' stock," suspicioned One-Price Forshay, who had a large collection of cutlery certificates.
"More likely it's just a scheme to get us talking about his Paradise Powder. Seems to me I've had some of their circulars," said Bon-Ton Spate.
Pettibone, the practical chairman, silenced the gossip with a brisk, "What is the pleasure of the meeting as regards answering it?"
"I move we lay it on the table," said Eberhart of the Furniture Palace.
"I move we lay it under the table," said Forshay, who had a keen sense of humor.
"Order, gentlemen! Order," rapped Pettibone, as the room rocked with the laughter in which Forshay led.
When sobriety was restored it was moved, seconded, and passed that the secretary be instructed to send Shelby a copy of the boom number of the Wakefield Daily Eagle.