A good-looking young woman, who was probably Mrs. Munsberg, was
packing a smaller box behind the counter. Tembarom lifted his hat,
and she liked it.

"He didn't do it a bit fresh," she said later. "Kind o' nice." She
spoke to him with professional politeness.

"Is there anything you want?" she asked.

Tembarom glanced at the boxes and packages standing about and at
Munsberg, who had bent over his packing again. Here was an occasion
for practical tact.

"I've blown in at the wrong time," he said. "You're busy getting
things out on time. I'll just wait.. Gee! I'm glad to be inside. I
want to speak to Mr. Munsberg."

Mr. Munsberg jerked himself upright irascibly, and broke forth in the
accent of the New York German Jew.

"If you comin' in here to try to sell somedings, young man, joost you
let that same vind vat blew you in blow you right out pretty quick.
I'm not buyin' nodings. I'm busy."

"I'm not selling a darned thing," answered Tembarom, with undismayed
cheer.

"You vant someding?" jerked out Munsberg.

"Yes, I want something," Tembarom answered, " but it's nothing any