Scoville Wilson (shrug): "Beats me. You know, before dinner I cornered him at the bar to see if I could slip in a word or two of sell. Damned if he didn't sign an order for my Cyclo-sell Junior Tape Library without even a C level resistance. Then he talked a bit about the drinks and I thought sure he was pushing that new model Barboy. I was all set to come back with a sincere 'think it over'--and then he took a bottle from the Barboy, added a dash of vermouth to his drink and walked off without a word of sell. He always was an odd one." Lucy Wilson (turns from woman talk with the other two wives): "Oh no! I knew it wasn't the Barboy set. They wouldn't have him set so slow. Besides didn't you hear the way she carried on about the nursery and that lovely Nana? That must have been a build-up, but Ben goofed his cue to move in on Sco and me for a close. Doesn't Amalgamated handle those nurseries?" Tom Bartlett: "Amalgamated makes almost anything. That's the puzzle. I dunno--but it must be something big. He has to hit us with something, doesn't he?" Belle Bartlett: "Who ever heard of a party without a sell?" Nancy Stoddard: "Who ever heard of a party going past ten without at least a warm-up pitch? And Betty promised Fred to send both Ben and Bennie to the Clinic for their Medchecks. You know we have the newest, finest diagnosticians--" Fred Stoddard: "Nancy!" Nancy Stoddard: "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be selling you folks at _their_ party, should I? Come to think, you're all signed with Fred anyway, aren't you? Well, about Ben, _I_ think--" Lucy Wilson: "Sh-h-h! Here they come." * * * * * Smiling, charming--and still not an order form in sight--Ben and Betty got back to their guests. Another half hour. Barboy was passing around with nightcaps. Lucy Wilson nervously put a reducegar to her sophisticated, peppermint-striped lips. Quickly Ben Tilman was on his feet. He pulled a small, metal cylinder from his pocket with a flourish and held it out on his open palm toward Lucy. A tiny robot Statue of Liberty climbed from the cylinder, walked across Ben's hand, smiled, curtsied and reached out to light the reducegar with her torch, piping in a high, thin voice, "Amalgamated reducegars are cooler, lighter, finer." "Ben! How simply darling!" "Do you like it? It's a new thing from Amalgamated NovelDiv. You can program it for up to a hundred selective sell phrases, audio or visio key. Every salesman should have one. Makes a marvelous gift, and surprisingly reasonable." "So that's it, Ben. I just love it!" "Good! It's yours, compliments of Amalgamated." "But--then you're not selling them? Well, what on earth--?" "Damn it, Ben," Fred Stoddard broke in, "come on, man, out with it. What in hell _are_ you selling? You've given us the shakes. What is it? The Barboy set? It's great. If I can scrape up the down payment, I'll--"