“Yes, if I can buy them right.”
“I will meet any price given you by Reachum, Simmons, or Hibbard Spencer.” I didn't want to; I wanted to get better prices than they were quoting to their mail trade, but I proposed to make myself solid with him at once.
“Well,” said he, “I'm waiting for Clayton. I rather promised him an order the last time he was here, and he's to be here in a day or two.”
If there's one thing in the wide world that would make a man work for an order that is the kind of speech to do it. I had no grudge against Clayton, but I was bound to get that order or know why I couldn't. I remarked that Clayton was a first-rate fellow.
“Yes, he is; he's quiet and modest, and knows his business; if he only let up on his whistle he'd be perfect.”
“I didn't know he was a whistler.”
“He is; he's always whistling under his breath as if he was trying to catch the extra 2 1/2 on cartridges.”
“Are you handling the U. M. Co. cartridges?”
“Yes; got them of Simmons. He offered to discount Reachum and I gave him the chance. What are you doing on cartridges?”
“60 and 10.”