Part 24 (1/2)
”Say, Ed,” he said one day, ”why can't we get a new turn on our advertis.e.m.e.nts, make 'em interesting!”
Ed looked at him incredulously. ”What do you mean?”
Ed considered himself a pastmaster in the art of getting, writing, and composing advertis.e.m.e.nts, and he rather resented Nort's suggestion.
”Why,” said Nort, ”look at 'em! They're all just alike, and n.o.body cares to read 'em: 'Respectfully informs,' 'Most reasonable terms,' 'Solicits continuance!'”
Nort spread open the paper with growing glee. Anthy was already laughing.
”And look here,” he snorted, ”'guarantees satisfaction,' 'large and elegant a.s.sortment,' 'lowest prices.'”
”Well,” said Ed, ”what would you have? They pay their good money for these ads. It shows that they're satisfied.”
”No,” said Nort, ”it only shows that they don't know any better.”
He walked quickly down the room and back again, all our eyes upon him.
”I'll tell you what! Let's publish the picture of every business man who advertises with us right in the middle of his advertis.e.m.e.nt, and then invite our readers to watch for the 'Hempfield Gallery of Business Success.'”
To this plan Ed had a thousand objections, and the old Captain, much as he liked Nort, frowned upon it, and even Fergus scowled; but Anthy said:
”Let's see what can be done.”
So Nort confidently sallied forth, and went first to John G. Graham, groceryman, whose advertis.e.m.e.nts had been a feature of the _Star_ for twenty years, and who always renewed his agreement with the observation that he s'posed he'd have to, but he never seen the good it was to him.
He was a large man, as flaccid as a bag of meal, with a rather serious countenance, hair smoothly reached back, and a big gray moustache. He was one of the selectmen of the town, and secretly not a little vain of his position and of his success.
”Your store is one of the best-smelling places in this town,” said Nort.
”I always stop when I go by to take a sniff of it. I should think it would make people who come in here want to buy.”
He began to sniff, turning his head first this way and then that. To Mr.
Graham this was a novel and interesting suggestion, and in a moment's time he also began sniffing in a solemn and dignified way.
”It does smell good,” he admitted. ”Never thought of it before.”
This was the opening that Nort wanted. He began explaining, with an air of repressed enthusiasm which conveyed a wonderful conviction of the importance of what he was saying, the new plans of the _Star_. He quite took Mr. Graham into his confidence.
”We're now going to get the business men of Hempfield talked about, Mr.
Graham,” said Nort, bringing down his fist upon the top of a cracker box. ”We're going to make people trade here instead of sending away for their groceries!”
This was an important point with Mr. Graham. If there was one thing he hated above any other it was the invasion of Hempfield by the mail-order houses. So he turned his head to one side, frowning a little, and listened to Nort.
”Trouble is,” said Nort, ”your ad isn't interesting. Same thing you've had for ten years, and people have got so used to seeing it they don't read it any more. Now those fellows out in Chicago are succeeding because they know how to advertise. If you keep up with them, you've got to change your methods. Bring your advertising up to date! I say, let's _make_ the people read what the business people of Hempfield have got to say to them.”
Mr. Graham frowned still more deeply, wondering what all this meant and at just what point Nort would ask him to pay something. Mr. Graham was cynically sure that it would all boil down sooner or later to a question of money, and he had not lived an entire lifetime in Hempfield without being equally sure that no one would get a dime out of him without earning every last cent of it.
Nort tore a sheet of wrapping paper from the roll and put it on the counter.