"Wait!" says Munson, takin' off his glasses and wipin' 'em. "You're a new one on me, son! So you admit you haven't got the greatest auto that was ever made, eh?" he chuckles. "By Peter! That sounds strange after all the talk I been listening to to-day. If your car is as honest as you seem to be, it's all right!" He sits lookin' off in the air, tappin' the desk with the pencil again. Alex nudges me and we start for the door. Halfway he stops and looks at a photo that's framed over the desk. It's a picture of a barn, some chickens and a couple of cows. "Right fine landscape, that!" chirps Alex to Munson. "Makes a feller like me homesick to look at it. Them are sure fine Jerseys, too--and say, see them pullets, would you!" "That's my little farm down on Long Island," says Munson, throwin' out his chest. "I suppose that makes you laugh, eh? Big, grown New Yorker having a farm, eh?" "Mister," says Alex, sadly, "it don't make _me_ laugh! I was raised on a farm in Vermont and--" "That so?" cuts in Munson, lookin' interested. "Country boy, eh?" "Yep," goes on Alex. "Now, speakin' of them pullets there--if you'd try 'em on a straight diet of bran and potatoes--pound of each--they'll fatten up quicker." "Yes?" pipes Munson, brightenin' up some more. "Well, well! And--hmph! Thanks, Mister Hanley, I'll make a note of that. Now--eh--sit down a minute! I don't want to take your time, but--eh, what did you find best back home for saving the young chicks? What foods--" "I'll just leave you a few little rules," says Alex, his eyes glitterin', as he rams his elbow a mile in my ribs. "I got to call on another department store this afternoon, where I'm almost certain to take an order and--" "Young man!" Munson shuts him off, "I'm frank enough to say that you've made a very favorable impression on me. You're honest about your car, and you didn't try to overawe me by hurling a lot of unintelligible technical terms into my ear. You don't claim it's the bargain of the age. Now we have recently inaugurated right here in this store a policy of absolute honesty with regard to our merchandise. No misrepresentations are permitted. We sell our goods for what they are--we don't allow a clerk to tell a customer that he's getting a five-dollar shirt for two dollars. I can't get the car I want to put in here--they want too much money and their salesman spent most of his time here speaking in terms that none but a master mechanic on their own auto would understand. I'm a pretty good judge of character and you look good to me. Give me a price on fifty of your cars for immediate delivery and--well, let's hear your figures!" Alex drops his hat on the floor, but when he picked it up, he was as cool as a dollar's worth of ice. "Just a minute," he says, sittin' down and reachin' for a desk telephone. He gets the Gaflooey Company on the wire.