"All right, Mr. Comer," the voice replied, sarcastically. "Make a nice price on those rivets--and cut out the kidding." "Listen; my name's not Comer; it's Mitchell. I'm not kidding, either. I want you to ask for me whenever you call up. Every little bit helps, you know." "Oh, I see. You want the carriage man to call your number. All right, Mitch. If you're out at lunch with Mr. Carnegie the next time I want a dozen number ten sheets I'll have you paged at the Union League Club." If the speaker liked this kind of blank verse, she had called up the right supply house, for Mitchell came back with: "Say, if I ever get _your_ number, I'll do the calling, Miss Santa Fé." "_W-what_?" came the startled reply. "I mean what I say. I'd love to call--" "Is that so? Well, I do all the calling for our, family, and I'm going to call you right now. What's the price of those rivets?" "Two sixty-five." "Too high! Good-by." "Wait a minute." Mitchell checked the lady before she could "plug out" on him. "Now that you've got those rivets out of your system, may I get personal for an instant?" "Just about an instant." "I could listen to _you_ all day." "Oops, Horace; he loves me!" mocked the lady's voice. "See here, I'm a regular person--with references. I've been talking to you every day for six months, so I feel that we're acquainted. Some pleasant evening, when your crew of hammock gladiators palls on you, let me come around and show you the difference." "What difference?" "I'll show you what a real porch-climber is like." "Indeed! I'll think it over." Ten minutes later Miss Santa Fe called up again. "Hello! I want Mitchell, the junior partner." "This is Mitchell." "Did you say those rivets were two-fifty?" "Should they be?" "They should." "They are." "Ship them to Trinidad." "That's bully of you, Miss Santa Claus. I want to--" But the wire was dead. Mitchell grinned. Personality did count after all, and he had proved that it could be projected over a copper wire. An hour later when Miss Northwestern called him for a price on stay-bolt iron she did not ring off for fifteen minutes, and at the end of that time she promised to take the first opportunity of having another chat. In a similar manner, once the ice had been broken at the C. & E.I., Mitchell learned that the purchasing agent was at West Baden on his vacation; that he had stomach trouble and was cranky; that the speaker loved music, particularly Chaminade and George Cohan, although Beethoven had written some good stuff; that she'd been to Grand Haven on Sunday with her cousin, who sold hats out of Cleveland and was a prince with his money, but drank; and that the price on corrugated iron might be raised ten cents without doing any damage. On the following afternoon Murphy, the Railroad Sales Manager, stopped on his way past Mitchell's desk to inquire: