The eminent publicist replaced his glass on the table and turned to the
lady who sat beside him. "My business," he said, "is the manufacture of
mustard. I have made a vast fortune out of it."
"How very interesting," the lady replied absently; but the next moment,
inspired by a hidden thought, she added with quickened interest, "Please
don't think me inquisitive, but how can a fortune be made out of a thing
like mustard? People take so little of it."
"Madam," answered the mustard magnate deliberately, "we do not make our
fortunes from the mustard that people eat"--
"Yes, yes?" cried the lady eagerly.--"but," he continued, "from what
they spill in mixing poultices."