IT will be remembered that Mr. Morris had asked, not too cordially, "What can I do for you?"
"I want a job as a demonstrator," replied George.
"Gad!" ejaculated Mr. Morris impatiently. "Is there a young fellow in Detroit that doesn't? They come in here twenty a day."
Now some salesmen talk too much. George Judson had learned better. To this impatient remark he offered no comment. He merely stood gazing expectantly at Mr. Morris, reinforcing his appeal for a job with the plea of his earnest eyes and the quiet persistence of his manner, selling himself without a word. Mr. Morris felt this. It compelled him to parley.
"Know anything about gasoline engines? Anything about automobiles?" he plumped.
"No," confessed the young man honestly, "but I've ridden in every automobile built in Detroit, and the best ride I got was in a Milton Morris. Anyhow my business is selling. I know how to get people to buy things."
"Gad! That's the point!" conceded Mr. Morris, who was secretly aggrieved that Olds
