"About that clerk at 'Sol y Sombra.' That little chap who put me wise to business conditions in this country. You remember what a row he raised because I wanted to make a hardware display."
"Yes, that's Josefa."
"Well, he's gone."
The señora moved lazily in the gloom, to face her companion.
"You wanted to tell me Josefa was gone?" He could tell by her voice that she was smiling.
"Not so much that as the way I heard it. Day or two ago I called on the proprietor. He was as polite as pie, but he didn't warm up to my selling talk. Finally I offered him my leader—some shovels at a price that'd make him think he stole 'em. I was pushing the goods pretty hard when finally he looked at me with a sort of whitish face and says, 'Señor Strawbridge, I am not in the market for your goods at any price.'
"'That lets me down,' I says, 'if low prices and high quality don't interest you. That's all I got—the lowest prices and the highest quality."
"I saw he was going to bow me out regardless, so I thought I would be polite up to the limit and inquire after the health of the little clerk I had met in the store several mornings before that.
"When I asked after him, the proprietor jumped from his chair. 'Señor!' he cried, 'you shall not mock at my distress! You may have the leading hand now, but as sure as there is a God in heaven, He will punish you!' He shook a finger at me. 'He will punish you! He will punish you!'
"I stared at him. I never came so near hitting a man in all my life, but I remembered something my old man told me when I first went to work with him. 'Strawbridge,' he'd say, 'keep your temper; nobody else wants it.' So I thought to myself, 'Here's where I keep her,' and I said, 'Señor, you've got the advantage of me. If I've done you or yours any harm, I'm sorry, but how have I done it?'