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 use pajamas, French, or military hair-brushes. Cast me for the rôle of the rhinestone-in-the-rough or I don’t go on exhibition. If you can use me in my, natural, though displeasing form, do so.”

“Dress you up?” says Atterbury; “I should say not! Just as you are you’re worth more to the business than a whole roomful of the things they pin chrysanthemums on. You’re to play the part of the solid but disheveled capitalist from the Far West. You despise the conventions. You’ve got so many stocks you can afford to shake socks. Conservative, homely, rough, shrewd, saving—that’s your pose. It’s a winner in New York. Keep your feet on the desk and eat apples. Whenever anybody comes in eat an apple. Let ’em see you stuff the peelings in a drawer of your desk. Look as economical and rich and rugged as you can.”

I followed out Atterbury’s instructions. I played the Rocky Mountain capitalist without ruching or frills. The way I deposited apple peelings to my credit in a drawer when any customers came in made Hetty Green look like a spendthrift. I could hear Atterbury saying to victims, as he smiled at me, indulgent and venerating, “That’s our vice-president, Colonel Pickens … fortune in Western investments … delightfully, plain manners, but 177