He paused delicately, whereupon Gammon burst into a roar of laughter
which echoed through the still house.

"You're the queerest devil I know," was the remark that followed.
"It's no use trying to make out what you're really up to."

"I have stated the case in very clear terms," replied Greenacre
solemnly. "The chief thing is to find a substitute to drive the
'Saponaria' van."

"What sort of animal in the shafts?"

"Two--a pail of Welsh cobs--good little goers."

"By jingo!" shouted Gammon, "I'll tool 'em round myself. I'm off for
to-morrow, and a job of that kind would just suit me."

Greenacre's face brightened with relief. He began to describe the
route which the "Saponaria" van had to pursue.

"It's the south-east suburbs to-morrow, the main thoroughfares of
Greenwich, Blackheath, Lewisham, and all round there. There are
certain shops to call at to drop bills and samples; no order-taking.
Here's the list. At likely places you throw out a shower of these
little blue cards. Best is near a Board School when the children are
about. I'm greatly obliged to you, Gammon; I never thought you'd be
able to do it yourself. Could you be at the stable just before nine?
I'd meet you and give you a send-off. Bait at--where is it?" He
consulted the notebook. "Yes, Prince of Wales's Feathers, Catford
Bridge; no money out of pocket; all settled in the plan of campaign.