Look here. I know skirts from the draw-string to
the ruffle. It's a woman's garment, but a man's line. There's fifty
reasons why a woman can't handle it like a man. For one thing the
packing cases weigh twenty-five pounds each, and she's as dependent on
a packer and a porter as a baby is on its mother. Another is that if a
man has to get up to make a train at 4 A.M. he don't require twenty-
five minutes to fasten down three sets of garters, and braid his hair,
and hook his waist up the back, and miss his train. And he don't have
neuralgic headaches. Then, the head of a skirt department in a store
is a woman, ten times out of ten. And lemme tell you," he leaned
forward earnestly, "a woman don't like to buy of a woman. Don't ask me
why. I'm too modest. But it's the truth."
"Well?" said young T. A., with the rising inflection.
"Well," finished Ed Meyers, "I like your stuff. I think it's great.
It's a seller, with the right man to push it. I'd like to handle it.
And I'll guarantee I could double the returns from your Middle-Western
territory.
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