“Good form!” I exclaimed. “That's it! That's what I want! What does 'good form' mean?” He laughed. “You can search me,” said he. “I could easier tell you--anything else. It's what everybody recognizes on sight, and nobody knows how to describe. It's like the difference between a cultivated 'jimson' weed and a wild one.” “Like the difference between Mowbray Langdon and me,” I suggested good-naturedly. “How about my manners?” “Not so bad,” said he. “Not so rotten bad. But--when you're polite, you're a little too polite; when you're not polite, you--” “Show where I came from too plainly?” said I. “Speak right out--hit good and hard. Am I too frank for 'good form'?” “You needn't bother about that,” he assured me. “Say whatever comes into your head--only, be sure the right sort of thing comes into your head. Don't talk too much about yourself, for instance. It's good form to think about yourself all the time; it's bad form to let people see it--in your talk. Say as little as possible about your business and about what you've got. Don't be lavish with the I's and the my's.” “That's harder,” said I. “I'm a man who has always minded his own business, and cared for nothing else. What could I talk about, except myself?” “Blest if I know,” replied he. “Where you want to go, the last thing people mind is their own business--in talk, at least. But you'll get on all right if you don't worry too much about it. You've got natural independence, and an original way of putting things, and common sense. Don't be afraid.” “Afraid!” said I. “I never knew what it was to be afraid.” “Your nerve'll carry you through,” he assured me. “Nerve'll take a man anywhere.” “You never said a truer thing in your life,” said I. “It'll take him wherever he wants, and, after he's there, it'll get him whatever he wants.” And with that, I, thinking of my plans and of how sure I was of success, began to march up and down the office with my chest thrown out--until I caught myself at it. That stopped me, set me off in a laugh at my own expense, he joining in with a kind of heartiness I did not like, though I did not venture to check him.