Buck returned to the little book dazedly. He flipped another
leaf--another. Then he read in a stunned sort of voice:


"Sam Bloom, Paris Emporium, Duluth. See Sadie."


He closed the book. "Say, see here, Emma, do you mean to----"

"Sam is the manager," interrupted Mrs. McChesney pleasantly,
"and he thinks he does the buying, but the brains of that
business is a little girl named Sadie Harris. She's a wonder.
Five years from now, if she doesn't marry Sam, she'll be one of
those ten-thousand-a-year foreign buyers. Play your samples up
to Sammy, but quote your prices down to Sadie. Read the next
one, T. A."

Buck read on, his tone lifeless:


"Miss Sharp. Berg Brothers, Omaha. Strictly business. Known
among the trade as the human cactus. Canceled a
ten-thousand-dollar order once because the grateful salesman
called her `girlie.' Stick to skirts."


Buck slapped the book smartly against the palm of his hand.

"Do you mean to tell me that you made this book out for me? Do
you mean to say that I have to cram on this like a kid studying