To do that they needed a man
who could talk. Perhaps they remembered the creation of the world
the year before. At all events, they sent up to Buffalo and asked
me if I would try.
I slammed my tool-box shut and started for Jamestown on the next
train. Twenty-four hours later saw me headed for the oil country,
equipped with a mighty album and a price-list. The album contained
pictures of the furniture I had for sale. All the way down
I studied the price-list, and when I reached Titusville I knew to
a cent what it cost my employers per foot to make ash extension
tables. I only wish they had known half as well.
My first customer was a grumpy old shopkeeper who needed neither
tables nor bedsteads, so he said. But I had thought it all over and
made up my mind that the first blow was half the battle. Therefore
I knew better. I pushed my album under his nose, and it fell open
at the extension tables. Cheap, I said, and rattled off the price.
I saw him prick up his ears, but he only growled that probably they
were no good.
What! my extension tables no good? I dared him to try them, and he
gave me an order for a dozen, but made me sign an agreement that
they were to be every way as represented.
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