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Rh asked without looking up from his Ouija board.

“Alas, no—only 5,000,” Angie was forced to confess.

A bobbed hair stenographer smiled. She was new at the business, so new that she  wore no jewelry and went out to the Rest  Room to powder her ears. She still thought spaghettis grew in the smaller Venetian canals, and the holes were made by toreadors. She gazed at Angie, with much of her face open. Too much.

“Nothing doing!” said the President. “And don’t come back till you have 10,000; and then don’t. I fear you are infectious. Kindly do not breathe until you have left town. Wink all you want, but don’t breathe.”

Very, very angry was Angie. She didn’t see red, for, among her other accomplishments she was color-blind; but she did bite a piece out of the door knob as she left. It failed, however, to appease her hunger. She was mad all the way home—so mad that the train conductor thought seriously of  muzzling her, but didn’t, on account of the  expense.