bridge, an expert salesman is first aid to the financially injured; he's the star of Bethlehem to the sinners of commerce.’ He's a cutter, my old man is. I wish you could know him, señora.”
“You mean your father?” hazarded the President's wife.
“Holy mackerel, lady! no!” cried the drummer, with a touch of Keokuk gusto in his voice. “I mean my boss, the head knocker of my firm. Great old chap, and rich as Limburger cheese. Say, he owns fifty-one per cent, of the Orion Arms stock, and he started in as a water boy. How do you like that ?” Mr. Strawbridge gave his auditors a little triumphant smile.
“Caramba! Very American, I say,” laughed fhe colonel. The señora interposed quickly:
“And very good and very fine, I say, Señor Strawbridge!” She looked at the colonel with a certain little light in her eye, then added emphatically, “I am sure I should like him.”
She was rising to leave the table.
Coronel Saturnino, who was about to seat himself, said:
“If I concede his admirable qualities, I wonder if you would stay and eat another orange, señora?”
But the girl pleaded that she must practise some music in the cathedral. Strawbridge hesitated, half-way out of his chair. He was undecided whether to stay with Coronel Saturnino or to go with the señora. He decided for the latter and walked out of the breakfast-room with her, but he was vaguely embarrassed for fear he had done the wrong thing.
