Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 161: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CASHIER’S CHECKS. of the week I’d ’a’ sure sold another one, but Ill sell it to-morrow all right.” “Well, you haven’t got much further to go for the grand prize,” piped the French- man. “ Only twenty-nine more.” “Whom did he sell?” asked Foster, be- fore I had a chance to look at the contract. “ Abel’s shoe store,” came back O’ Malley. The fleet started to whistle in surprise. ‘“Any deposit?” Foster asked. “No,” came back O’Malley. “It’s a mighty poor salesman that gets a deposit. When you ask a man for a deposit don’t you know you’re showin’ a sign of weak- ness?” “That’s a good line of stuff you got,” chirped Ferdinand. “Oh, wait a minute! I forgot!” O’Malley exclaimed, and he went into his pocket again and pulled out a check, which he handed over to me. “ It’s a cashier’s check for the full amount of the car,” he ex- plained. “How did you come to get it made good for you,” I replied. “Well, I didn’t want to get the check he gimme certified; thought it might make him mad afterwards when he saw it, so I just got a cashier’s check, which is just as good,” he answered. “Tt sure is,” I assured him. “ That’s my idea of a deposit,” he said, going over and slappin’ the Frenchman on the back. “Put it there,” said Foster. “ Any fellow that can sell Abel a car and get paid on the spot: I’m for him—hook, line and sinker.” “Thirty little contracts sitting in a row, one’s signed up, there’s twenty-nine to go; chickadee, chickadee, happy and gay,” O’Malley hummed. “Voure all right,” Bowling came out and said to O’Malley after I told him about the sale, cashier’s check and all. “ That’s what I call a clean cut sale. I knew you could sell by the way you sold yourself to me. I hope you'll sell many more.” “Tf I figure right there’s twenty-five dc'ars commission comin’ to me,” is all the caswer O’Malley gave him. “There is.” ‘Well, I sure can use it. This drawing 951 account business works two ways. Ii 1 ain’t gonna have any of your money there ain’t any use of your havin’ mine.” Bowling looked at the check again and called to the cashier, telling him to give ©’Malley twenty-five dollars. “Tf I only would ’a’ worked at that ga- rage the rest of the week I sure could have sold another car to-day,” he said to himself as he put the money into his pocket. The old man was gettin’ used to him and just passed up the remark. “ Good sale if he didn’t have it under his hat before he came here,” I said to Bowling after O’Malley left. “Well, that’s one car gone out anyway,” muttered the old man, not listenin’ to me. The next day he blew with another con- tract and check for the full amount. “TI could ’a’ sold another if—”’ ‘Tf somebody would buy,” broke m Ferdinand to me. “I didn’t think you’d bite on that old one.” “Tf I’d only worked in that garage an- other week that’s the 7f” said O’Malley. “Twenty-nine contracts all in a row, one more gone and there’s twenty-eight to go, chickadee, chickadee—” he hummed on his way out again. He brought in another contract with a cashier’s check in full again the next day signed by Marks Cohn & Company. “T could have sold another maybe if—” he said again. “Tf what?” I came back once more. “If T’d worked in that garage the rest of the week. Twenty-eight contracts sittin’ pretty in a row, to-morrow one more will go. Chickadee, chickadee, happy and gay—”’ “That fellow is bugs I'll tell you. He must have come out of an asylum,” spouted Hirsch when O’Malley left. “Tf he did I’d like to get some more men out of the same asylum,” I answered, quietin’ him down. That was three days in succession he had sold a car. The next day he sold Abe Kempner, the toughest egg In town, a man who always wanted the best car in the shop and three extra sets of tools, to say nothing of a couple of jacks. “I could ’ave sold another car 1f—” comicoooks (©