“You’re an agent for—for phonographs?” he guessed. “Sorry, but I’ve got more of those sing-tanks around home than I can spare ears to hear ’em. Lay off my horse! You can’t sell me anything this afternoon.” “B-but, wait a minute!” The Edison emissary continued to earn his salary by the way he hung on. “You’ve already bought all I’m asking you to pay for. Unless it’s inconvenient—if you’d only take a minute off and settle——” “Inconvenient—_unless?_” Pape was beginning to fear a loss of self-control. Polkadot was equally vociferous, if less intelligible, for he detested alien hands upon his harness. Pushing back his stirrups, Pape leaned over the horn of his saddle to demand: “Say, do I look like a dodo that was just loafing around for a chance chat with a persistency specialist like you? Now you tell me in not more than one short word what you want me to settle for or I’ll——” “Juice,” interrupted the mild-mannered youth, obedient to the syllable. “Juice?” As though a button had been pushed, light flooded Pape’s mind. He straightened, began to laugh, then stopped again to query the collector. “So you’re from— So they sent you to— So _that’s_ why——” His pause was to tickle Polkadot’s back-waggling ears—to share that responsive pal’s quiver of mirth. When again able to articulate—— “How much? Let’s see your persistency passport, if you brought one. Humph! Not much to waste all this two-man time for. Say, you go back and tell your skimpy electro-factory that you persisted just long enough to prevent my making an attack in force upon their main office.” “An attack—why?” the youth asked gently. “_Why not?_” demanded Pape. “Maybe you can tell me why all the current is running to Goldfish Movie and Yutu Corset signs—why last night at 7:15 they were blazing and not a letter of Welcome-To-Our-City was lit, nor a rose of my wreath blooming for me! If they call that service——” “You can’t have service without paying the bills, Mr. Pape. Just what I was trying to tell you at your hotel last evening. Your sign burns up credit, I tell you. It won’t light up another night until——” “Until I fuel up, eh?” Already Pape had pulled from pocket a wallet fat with bills freshly parked for ransom against any possible expense of New York justice. “This will cover the bill with a couple of centuries in advance for a few days future service. Express my apologies to Mr. Edison. Explain that the reason you couldn’t make me dig up last night was because I had an engagement to dig down. You might add that it was with some one to whom the welcome sign had made me welcome. You can say for me that my career since he howdy-dooed me in watts and kilowatts would make a live-wire ad. for the concern. The facts ain’t ready for rose-wreathed publicity yet—not yet awhile—but they would turn the president of a gas company into an enthusiastic rooter for electric signs.”