“I know you’re m-m-mighty busy,” says Mark, as sober as a judge, “and I know what a heap of awful important things you got to be thinkin’ about all the t-t-time, but folks says you got a wonderful m-m-memory. I was thinkin’ maybe you’d recall about this.” “Huh!” says Lish. “Folks beginnin’ to appreciate what a job I got, eh? Beginnin’ to see that old Lish is some pumpkins when it comes to rememberin’. ’Bout time! Huh!... Now lemme see. Sile he made a less-car shipment along about a week ago, somewheres near. Remember who it went to? You kin bet I do? Ever hear tell of me forgettin’ anythin’ havin’ to do with this here perfession of mine? I calc’late you didn’t.” “I certainly never d-d-did,” says Mark. “Hain’t many freight-handlers to touch me,” says Lish. “’Cause why? ’Cause I made a study of it. That’s why. Some fellers treats it like a job. I hain’t never viewed it so. Perfession’s what I call it. Like bein’ a lawyer or a minister or sich. Made a study of it.” “Wonderful,” says Mark, and he said it so sincere and natural-like that I almost believed he felt that way about it myself. He didn’t even wink at me when he said it. No, sir, you can bet he didn’t. When Mark Tidd was doing a thing, he did it thorough. I knew he was taffying Lish, and he knew I knew it, but would he wink at me? Not much. He was pretendin’ he did admire Lish, that’s what he was doin’, and he pretended it so hard that he did admire him while it was going on. “Who did you say that s-s-shipment went to?” Mark says, in a minute. “Family Chair Company, of course. Over to Bostwick. How many times have I got to tell you, eh? Got to stand here a-yellin’ it at you all the mornin’?” “Much obleeged,” says Mark, and out we went. We didn’t have to wait long for the train to Bostwick, and it was just an hour’s ride, so we got there quite a while before noon. Bostwick was considerable of a place, with lots of factories and about fifty-six times as many stores and houses as Wicksville. I was bothered a little thinking maybe we might get lost, but then I says to myself: “So long as you’re with Mark Tidd you’re all right. You might get lost, Plunk Smalley, but there hain’t any chance of mislayin’ Mark. Might as well try to lose the Goddess of Liberty.” So I went along with him and kept my mouth shut, which is a wise thing to do in a heap of cases. Mark he prances up to a policeman and says, “Mister, where be we g-g-goin’ to find the Family Chair Company?” The policeman looked at Mark and grinned, and then he says, “They don’t make that kind of furniture, son.” “What kind?” says Mark. “Iron,” says the policeman. “Hain’t l-l-lookin’ for iron furniture.”