[Ill.u.s.tration: "SNIPPED THREE SHORT PIECES OF WIRE FROM THE COIL"]

"Of course they're not meant for that purpose; but a pocket-knife that can do that must have quality in it."

"Yes, indeed." I looked at the knife curiously to see if the edge was dented at all, but it wasn't.

"That is the kind of pocket-knife we sell," he continued. "Isn't that the kind of pocket-knife that will please your trade? Just a moment,"

putting up his hand, "there's a bit of copper wire on your counter yonder. May I borrow it a moment?"

I smiled and fetched it to him.

This time he brought out a pair of shears and snipped three short pieces of wire from the coil, pa.s.sed the scissors over to me and said, smiling in the most friendly manner, "Same story on the scissors, Mr. Black."

My hand instinctively stretched out for those scissors and I examined the cutting edges carefully.

"Look at this, La.r.s.en," I called out without thinking. . . . "Mr. La.r.s.en looks after our cutlery--tell him about it."

I held out the scissors to the stranger, but he didn't take them.

"Try it for yourself," he said to La.r.s.en.

La.r.s.en did try it.

"Any good shears'll do that," said La.r.s.en.

"Exactly," said the salesman, laughing; "which shows these must be good shears. Isn't that so?"

"How much?" asked La.r.s.en.

Well, I need not go any further. We had always bought most of our cutlery from a jobber, feeling that it was best for us under the circ.u.mstances. This salesman got us so interested in his cutlery, however, that, really before we knew it, he had our order.

Martin had been unpacking some goods which had just come in and didn't get behind the counter until afternoon. I told him about the selling stunt that we had seen. "That's fine!" he said. "Let us adopt it," and thereupon we decided that on pocket-knives of one dollar and over, and shears of seventy-five cents and over, we should demonstrate their superiority in the same way that the salesman had done.

"Why not on the cheaper ones?" I asked.

"Do you think," replied Martin with a dry smile, "that people would pay extra for the higher priced knives or shears if we demonstrated to them that the lower priced ones would stand the same test of quality? There would be no logical reason for them to pay the extra price, would there?"

A few days after our meeting Jimmie complained that the whole town was using our store as a pencil sharpening emporium. "Everybody is sharpening their pencils all day long, since we put up that notice about the Cincinnati pencil sharpener," he said.

"How many have we sold?" I said, turning to Jones. As a matter of fact I had forgotten our plan.

"There's only one left," he answered.

"Great Scott! Order another dozen right away!" I said excitedly.

"Martin ordered them on Tuesday."

Martin again. He thinks.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

BETTY COMES HOME

When I got down to breakfast one morning the Mater was there with a letter in her hand which had a Florida post-mark on it. Her face was very grave.

"Hullo, Mater," I said; then, noticing the envelope, "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Why, no; but I've got a little disappointment for you."

"Betty isn't sick again?" I asked anxiously.

"Now, don't worry, my dear," she said; "but I want you to let me tell you"--here she hesitated and looked at me for a moment, then shook her head sorrowfully and under her breath said, "Poor boy!"

"Good gracious, Mother, tell me quickly what it is!"

"There, there, sit down."

I sat down. My throat felt parched. Mother's remarks made me think all kinds of dreadful things had happened to my Betty. She stood behind my chair and put her arms on my shoulders and said: "Well, my poor boy, your time of ease will soon be over. Betty will be home next Wednesday."

I felt as if a ton of bricks had been taken off my chest, and at once forgave Mother for her joke.

I had just bought three electric vacuum cleaners, and La.r.s.en thought I was crazy.

"Retail at thirty-five dollars!" he said.

"Cost me twenty-two," I retaliated.

"H'm!"

"Besides," I continued, "remember that we are going to dominate the electrical supply field."

"And toilet articles--don't forget them," La.r.s.en laughed.

That was his hobby; and it was a hobby that meant dollars and cents to me, for that business was growing steadily all the time.

We had even added toilet soap, because we had been asked for it several times. People came in to leave their safety razors to be sharpened and then bought a stick of shaving soap, and also asked if we had any toilet soap. So, right or wrong, we had gone into it. Martin had the right idea. "If you can make profit out of it it's all right."

Coming back to our vacuum cleaners, I had felt that we ought to have everything electrical, just so that we could dominate the field. I might have been wrong in my reasoning, but that was how it struck me. I had asked Martin if he didn't agree with me.

"I most surely do, Mr. Black," he said. "I think you have the right idea on that, and I think you will sell some vacuum cleaners." He pursed his lips, a habit he had when thinking, then added, "And, even if you don't sell them, you can make a good profit out of them."

La.r.s.en shot him a questioning look.

"In fact," continued Martin, "when you think it over, you might decide not to bother to sell them at all, but just rent them during the spring cleaning time, which is coming on very soon. You ought to be able rent them for a dollar a day, without any trouble. I think that in sixty days you can rent those machines so that they wouldn't cost you anything."

That was on Monday, and in the evening we had quite an interesting discussion at our "directors'" meeting.