Part 9 (1/2)
”I don't know. Is it the sort of business you would advise a rather lazy person to embark in, Miss--”
”Neal,” she supplied; adding, with an ill.u.s.trative glance around, upon her busy roomful, all sorting and marking correspondence, ”You see, I only give advice by letter.”
She turned away to answer one of the subordinates, and, at the same time, Dr. Surtaine was called aside by a man with a s.h.i.+pping-bill.
Looking down the line of workers, Hal saw that each one was simply opening, reading, and marking with a single stroke, the letters from a distributing groove. To her questioner Milly Neal was saying, briskly:
”That's Three and Seven. Can't you see, she says she has spots before her eyes. That's stomach. And the lameness in the side is kidneys. Mark it 'Three pa.s.s to Seven.' There's a combination form for that.”
”What branch of the work is this?” asked Hal, as she lifted her eyes to his again.
”Symptom correspondence. This is the sorting-room.”
”Please explain. I'm a perfect greenhorn, you know.”
”You've seen the ads. of course. n.o.body could help seeing them. They all say, 'Write to Professor Certain'--the trade name, you know. It's the regular stock line, but it does bring in the queries. Here's the afternoon mail, now.”
Hundreds upon hundreds of letters came tumbling from a bag upon the receiving-table. All were addressed to ”Prof.” or ”Dr.” Certain.
”How can my father hope to answer all those?” cried Hal.
The girl surveyed him with a quaint and delicious derision. ”He? You don't suppose he ever sees them! What are _we_ here for?”
”You do the answering?”
”Practically all of it, by form-letters turned out in the printing department. For instance, Letter One is coughs and colds; Two, headaches; Three, stomach; and so on. As soon as a symp-letter is read the girl marks it with the form-letter number, underscores the address, and it goes across to the letter room where the right answer is mailed, advising the prospect to take Certina. Orders with cash go direct to the s.h.i.+pping department. If the symp-writer wants personal advice that the form-letters don't give, I send the inquiry upstairs to Dr. De Vito.
He's a regular graduate physician who puts in half his time as our Medical Adviser. We can clear up three thousand letters a day, here.”
”I can readily see that my father couldn't attend to them personally,”
said Hal, smiling.
”And it's just as good this way. Certina is what the prospects want and need. It makes no difference who prescribes it. This is the Chief's own device for handling the correspondence.”
”The Chief?”
”Your father. We all call him that, all the old hands.”
Hal's glance skimmed over the fresh young face, and the brilliant eyes.
”You wouldn't call yourself a very old hand, Miss Neal.”
”Seven years I've worked for the Chief, and I never want to work in a better place. He's been more than good to me.”
”Because you've deserved it, young woman,” came the Doctor's voice from behind Hal. ”That's the one and only reason. I'm a flint-livered old divvle to folks that don't earn every cent of their wages.”
”Don't you believe him, Mr. Surtaine,” controverted the girl, earnestly.
”When one of my girls came down last year with tuber--”
”Whoof! Whoof! Whoof!” interrupted the big man, waving his hands in the air. ”Stop it! This is no experience meeting. Milly, you're right about this letter. It's the confidential note that's lacking. It'll work up all right along the line of your suggestion. I'll have to send Hal to you for lessons in the business.”
”Miss Neal would have to be very patient with my stupidity.”