esn't expect to be refused."

"Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal."

"Why?"

Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features rippled into
the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen. "I am a salesman,
Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to be true because I have
demonstrated, over a period of five years, that I can sell my share of
anything that has a hockable value. I have always found, however, that
before proceeding to sell goods I had to sell the manufacturer of those
goods something, to-wit--myself! I am about to sell myself to you."

"Son," said Cappy smilingly, "you win. You've sold me already. When did
they sell you a membership in the military forces of the United States
of America?"

"On the morning of April 7th, 1917, sir."

"That clinches our sale. I soldiered with the Knights of Columbus at
Camp Kearny myself, but when they refused to let me go abroad with my
division my heart was broken, so I went over the hill."

That little touch of the language of the line appeared to warm Mr.
Peck's heart considerably, establishing at once a free masonry between
them.

"I was with the Portland Lumber Company, selling lumber in the Middle
West before the war," he explained. "Uncle Sam gave me my sheepskin at
Letter-man General Hospital last week, with half disability on my ten
thousand dollars' worth of government insurance. Whittling my wing was a
mere trifle, but my broken leg was a long time mending, and now it's
shorter than it really ought to be. And I developed pneumonia with
influenza and they found some T.B. indications after that. I've been at
the government tuberculosis hospital at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, for a
year. However, what's left of me is certified to be sound. I've got five
inches chest expansion and I feel fine."

"Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded.

"Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my right arm. I
can think and I can write, and even if one of my wheels is flat, I can
hike longer and faster after an order than most. Got a job for me, Mr.
Ricks?"

"No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten years
ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social frivolity--a place
to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the street. Our Mr. Skinner
is the chap you should see."

"I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied, "but he
wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the co