what. I saw it was the thing to do; but I
tried to fight it off, and I tried to joke it off. I used to say, 'Why
didn't you take a partner yourself, Persis, while I was away?' And
she'd say, 'Well, if you hadn't come back, I should, Si.' Always DID
like a joke about as well as any woman I ever saw. Well, I had to come
to it. I took a partner." Lapham dropped the bold blue eyes with which
he had been till now staring into Bartley's face, and the reporter knew
that here was a place for asterisks in his interview, if interviews
were faithful. "He had money enough," continued Lapham, with a
suppressed sigh; "but he didn't know anything about paint. We hung on
together for a year or two. And then we quit."

"And he had the experience," suggested Bartley, with companionable ease.

"I had some of the experience too," said Lapham, with a scowl; and
Bartley divined, through the freemasonry of all who have sore places in
their memories, that this was a point which he must not touch again.

"And since that, I suppose, you've played it alone."

"I've played it alone."

"You must ship some of this paint of yours to foreign countries,
Colonel?" suggested Bartley, putting on a professional air.

"We ship it to all parts of the world. It goes to South America, lots
of it. It goes to Australia, and it goes to India, and it goes to
China, and it goes to the Cape of Good Hope. It'll stand any climate.
Of course, we don't export these fancy brands much. They're for home
use. But we're introducing them elsewhere. Here." Lapham pulled open
a drawer, and showed Bartley a lot of labels in different
languages--Spanish, French, German, and Italian. "We expect to do a
good business in all those countries. We've got our agencies in Cadiz
now, and in Paris, and in Hamburg, and in Leghorn. It's a thing that's
bound to make its way. Yes, sir. Wherever a man has got a ship, or a
bridge, or a lock, or a house, or a car, or a fence, or a pig-pen
anywhere in God's universe to paint, that's the paint for him, and he's
bound to find it out sooner or later. You pass a ton of that paint dry
through a blast-furnace, and you'll get a quarter of a ton of pig-iron.
I believe in my paint. I believe it's a blessing to the world. When
folks come in, and kind of smell round, and ask me what I mix it with,
I always say, 'Well, in the first place, I mix it with FAITH, and after
that I grind it up with the best quality of boiled linseed oil t