He nodded to Thompson, bade him be seated. And Thompson sank into a
chair, facing John P. across the desk. He wanted nothing, expected
nothing. He was simply smitten with a human curiosity to know what this
stout, successful man of affairs had to propose to him.
"My name is Thompson," he stated cheerfully. "It is ten o'clock. I have
called--as you suggested."
Henderson smiled.
"I have been accused of hastiness in my judgment of men, but it is
admitted that I seldom make mistakes," he said complacently. "In this
organization there is always a place for able, aggressive young men.
Some men have ability without any force. Some men are aggressive with no
ability whatever. How about you? Think you could sell motor-cars?"
"How the deuce do I know?" Thompson replied frankly. "I have never
tried. I'm handicapped to begin. I know nothing about either cars or
salesmanship."
"Would you like to try?"
Thompson considered a minute.
"Yes," he declared. "I've tried several things. I'm willing to try
anything once. Only I do not see how I can qualify."
"We'll see about that," John P.'s eyes kept boring into him. "D'ye mind
a personal question or two?"
Thompson shook his head.
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