Part 50 (2/2)

We had a discussion as to which of the twenty-one rules of conduct was the best. La.r.s.en said that number one was the best. I favored twenty-one. Charlie said four was the best, and we finally agreed with him.

”Four,” said Charlie, ”appears to me to be the best, because the whole object of running this business is to make a profit. All the other rules are followed merely in order to secure that object.”

I really believed that we would find it easier to work according to definite rules, than to continue with no rules for our guidance.

Furthermore, we ought to be happier, working harmoniously together along definite lines. We all agreed that following these twenty-one rules would help us to give the store an atmosphere of _good service_, the _square deal_, _truthfulness_ and _cooperation_.

La.r.s.en had resumed his Thursday afternoon hunts for business. The first Thursday, when the old chap got back to the store, he was almost crying with delight.

”Say, Boss,” he said, ”those people seemed real glad to see me. They ask me where I been so long. I tell them I was sick. That's why I dropped Thursday trips. I felt I was meetin' old friends.”

”Fine!” I said. ”How much business did you get?”

”Sixteen dollars' worth,” he said. ”I think by keeping at it we'll get lots of new business. Remember old Seldom?--well,” (Seldom was a real estate man and quite well-to-do) ”he saw me coming in and came out of his office to me. He made me go to Traglio's and gave me a cigar. Then he said, 'There's nothing I'm wanting, La.r.s.en, but step over to the house; I'll tell the missus you are coming over.' Well, Boss, I go to the house and see her. She had a mail-order catalog and was making out an order. She's good-natured and fat. She make me cup of tea. She showed me order to go to Chicago.”

”What was it for?” I asked La.r.s.en.

”A bread mixer, for one thing,” said La.r.s.en, grinning.

I remembered my bread-mixer episode, so I said: ”Well, why didn't she come here for it? Goodness knows we advertised them enough.”

”That's what she said. She said it advertised too much. She thought if she bought one she get her name in paper or something.”

”Why, that's nonsense,” I remonstrated.

”That's what she said of the ad,” said La.r.s.en.

”Oh, well, forget it,” I cried peevishly. ”Did you get an order from her?”

”The only one I did get. Here it is--sixteen dollars! I try to sell her pencil sharpener, but she say, 'That's a man's buy.' I'll sell Seldom one for her.”

”Didn't any of the other people you called on want anything?”

”No,” said La.r.s.en, ”they not expect me. I didn't like to push this trip.

I think we oughta make a list of season stuff and call on regular customers. We could sell them stuff they buy from mail-order folks.”

La.r.s.en was determined to find some way of coping with the mail-order houses. We certainly had had some little success, but the mail-order houses seemed always to be everlastingly on the job.

CHAPTER XLI

ENDORSING A NOTE FOR A FRIEND

When I was a boy I had been great chums with a lad named Larry Friday.

Larry used to sleep at our house every other night, and I would sleep at his house every other night. We certainly knew each other as well as two boys could.

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