He told himself he was not much of a business man; that he managed carelessly.
"Two cents," suddenly announced the clerk with a certain surly indifference.
"Two cents a pound ?" "Yes, two cents a pound--that's in car-load lots, of course.

I won't give you that rate on smaller consignments." "Yes, car-load lots, of course...

two cents.

Well, all right." He turned away with a great sigh of relief.
"He sure did have me scared for a minute," he said to Annixter, as the two went down to the street, "fiddling and fussing so long.

Two cents is all right, though.