ok and applies
as well to one brand as another. As a matter of fact, often two
different soap companies, supposedly keen competitors, and using widely
different advertising, have their products manufactured in the same
plant."

Mr. Coty blinked at him. Shifted in his chair. Rubbed his chin as though
checking his morning shave. "Well ... well, then where do you get _your_
soap?"

"The same place. We buy in fantastically large lots from one of the
gigantic automated soap plants."

Mr. Coty had him now. "Ah, ha! Then how come you sell it for three cents
a cake, instead of twenty-five?"

"I've been telling you. Our soap doesn't even have a name, not to
mention an advertising budget. Far from spending fortunes redesigning
our packaging every few months in attempts to lure new customers, we
don't package the stuff at all. It comes to you, in the simplest
possible wrapping, through the mails. A new supply every month. Three
cents a cake. No middlemen, no wholesalers, distributors. No nothing
except soap at three cents a cake."

Mr. Coty leaned back in his chair. "I'll be darned." He thought it over.
"Listen, do you sell anything besides soap?"

"Not right now, sir. But soap flakes are coming up next week and I think
we'll be going into bread in a month or two."

"Bread?"

"Yes, sir, bread. Although we'll have to distribute that by truck, and
have to have almost hundred per cent coverage in a given section before
it's practical. A nickel a loaf."

"Five cents a loaf! You can't _make_ bread for that much."

"Oh, yes we can. We can't advertise it, package it, and pay a host of
in-betweens, is all. From the bakery to you, period."

Mr. Coty seemed fascinated. He said, "See here, what's the address of
your office?"

Warren Dickens shook his head. "Sorry, sir. That's all part of it. We
have no swanky offices with big, expensive staffs. We operate on the
smallest of shoestrings. No brain trust. No complaint department. No
public relations. No literature on how to beautify yourself. No nothing,
except good soap at three cents a cake, plus postage. Now, if you'll
sign this contract, we'll put you on our mailing list. Ten bars of soap
a month, Mrs. Coty said. I brought this first supply so you could test
it and see that the whole thing is bona fide."

Mr. Coty had to test it, but then he had to admit he couldn't tell any
difference between the nameless soap and the product to which he was
used. Eventually, he signed, m