Vance had always hated his aunt Saidie's jargon. She reminded him of a salesman retailing goods, and repeating automatically what was on their labels… . He wanted to know if he couldn't go in and see his grandmother; but Mrs. Toler said there was somebody with her on business: a man who organized lecture tours. He wanted to take Mrs. Scrimser right through the country, he said… . He'd answer for it that upstate she'd get the response she was accustomed to… . In New York it was a fashion to sit back and pretend you knew everything.

Vance's heart sank. He asked if he couldn't go in at once, while the man was there—and at the same moment a door opened, and Mrs. Scrimser came out into the hall. "I thought I heard my boy's voice," she said, coming to him with open arms. She begged him to step in and see the gentleman who had called about a lecture tour—he had made a very interesting proposal. Vance followed her, and found himself being named to Bunty Hayes, who held out his hand with undiminished cordiality. "Why, yes," he said, with an explanatory glance between grandmother and grandson, "'Storecraft' aims to handle all the human interests. We can't leave out religion, any more'n we could art or plumbing. And the minute I heard about this grand new religious movement of Mrs. Scrimser's, I said: 'That's exactly our line of goods, and there's nobody but "Storecraft" can do it justice.' If only she'd of got in touch with me before she came to New York I'd of had her addressing three thousand human people in Steinway Hall instead of trying to get a kick out of a few society highbrows from Park Avenue."

Vance stood silent between the two. His grandmother looked more aged in the morning light. In spite of her increasing bulk she seemed smaller: as if Fate had already traced on her, in deep lines and folds, her future diminution. But Bunty Hayes's flesh was taut and hard; he shone with a high varnish of prosperity. And he looked at Vance with a bright unwinking cordiality, as if their encounter were merely a happy incident in an old friendship. "On'y to think she's your grandmother; seems as if you'd got a corner in celebrity in your family," he said.

"Oh, Vanny's our real celebrity," Mrs. Scrimser murmured, her tired eyes filling as they rested on her grandson.

"Well, I guess there's enough of it to go round," Hayes encouraged them both. "What I say is … "

Mrs. Scrimser's gaze was still caressing Vance. She took his hand. "I guess he'll be lecturing all over the United States before long," she said.

"Well, when he does, 'Storecraft' 'll be all ready to handle him too—we'll feature you both on the same progrum," Mr. Hayes joked back.