CHAPTER IVSold: 10,000 Shirts!
I surveyed Simon Stannard pointedly. He had a note. For one thousand dollars. Signed and all. I felt like telling him it was none of his damned business what I had been doing in Honolulu, nor anywhere else; and to get busy—and state what he wanted. For I had no illusions that he was going to give me anything! But I was bursting with curiosity, just then, as to how he was going to square that promise. So I decided to play along with him, till he got ready to get down to brass tacks.
“Well, Uncle,” I said, “I’ll tell you. And in so doing, I’ll probably be giving you the whole low-down that will enable you to clamp down on the salary of one sales manager—at Recherché. Yes, myself! Though I take it, somehow, you’re not intending to sue me on that fool note?” I
