warehouse floor, where he found young Judson in a pair of borrowed overalls, with sleeves rolled up, grease and dirt to his elbows and his ears, engaged in prying into the mysteries of the Milton Morris automobile.
Secretly this pleased Mr. Morris. "Couldn't get one of these other dudes even to take an oil can in his hand," he remarked to himself.
For three days thereafter George appeared in overalls and flannel shirt. On the fourth day he was a clothing store model in appearance. He sold the sixth car on the tenth day of active salesmanship.
"Holy Zachariah!" exclaimed Mr. Morris. "You're selling 'em faster than we can make 'em. About eight or ten a month is as fast as we can turn 'em out."
"Couldn't you double the force and enlarge the shop?" suggested the young man modestly and yet hopefully.
This was rather cool, but Mr. Morris did not resent it. Instead he gazed thoughtfully, although with an expression half-humorous on his finely graven face.
"How do you do it? Sell 'em so easy, I mean?" he speculated.
"It's simple. All salesmanship is simple," expatiated George. "Just make the other fellow want the thing you're selling. Make him want it, and he'll do the rest. It is simple, sir . . .
