The Project Gutenberg eBook ofDawson Black: Retail Merchant

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofDawson Black: Retail MerchantThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Dawson Black: Retail MerchantAuthor: Harold WhiteheadIllustrator: John GossRelease date: June 2, 2011 [eBook #36302]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAWSON BLACK: RETAIL MERCHANT ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Dawson Black: Retail MerchantAuthor: Harold WhiteheadIllustrator: John GossRelease date: June 2, 2011 [eBook #36302]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Title: Dawson Black: Retail Merchant

Author: Harold WhiteheadIllustrator: John Goss

Author: Harold Whitehead

Illustrator: John Goss

Release date: June 2, 2011 [eBook #36302]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAWSON BLACK: RETAIL MERCHANT ***

Betty was a real comfort

"Betty was a real comfort" (See page110)

ByHAROLD WHITEHEAD

Author of"The Business Career of Peter Flint"

ILLUSTRATEDByJOHN GOSS

publisher's logo

THE PAGE COMPANYBOSTON PUBLISHERS

First Impression, July, 1918Second Impression, July, 1918Third Impression, October, 1919

I am glad to confess that whatever I do is done because I want to justify the faith in my ability and the loving encouragement which has so loyally been given to me. For this reason, I dedicate this to the one who has inspired me to do my best—My Wife.

A boy, just graduated from high school, was looking over some of his father's business books and magazines. The more he read, the more disappointed he became, until finally he blurted,

"Say, dad, I don't want to be a business man!"

"Why not?" asked his father, with a tolerant smile.

"Aw, there's no fun in business."

"Get that foolish idea out of your head, son. There's nothing I know of that is quite so much fun—as you call it—as business. Where did you get your ideas of business?"

"From them books," said son, emphatically, if ungrammatically. "All they talk about is efficiency, getting results, checking people up, and things of that kind."

Just ask yourself, Friend Reader, if your business reading has not given you an idea that business should be more or less a cold-blooded proposition, and our business life something apart from our home and social relationships.

Unfortunately, many books, excellent in their presentation of principles, ignore the human side, as it were, of business. I believe—nay, I am sure—that the influence of our home life is an important factor in the development of our business career. Our loves,our dislikes, our jealousies, our unfortunate, yet often lovable, unreasonablenesses are reflected in our business life. Our impetuous business decisions are often made through the subconscious influence of some dear one at home.

Our ambitions.—Are you, Friend Reader, so cold-blooded that you can say your ambition is a selfish one? Honestly now, wasn't it that you want to win something (whatever it may be)? Didn't you want to "make good" just to please some little woman?

When you faltered and weakened in your struggle for success, wasn't it she who gave you the necessary loving sympathy and encouragement to keep everlastingly at it? And wasn't your ambition encouraged a little bit by the delight you knew its attainment would give to that sweet little woman, who thinks "her boy" is just all right? Didn't you want to "make good" so as to please your mother and your father?

I don't care if you are a big, six-foot, bull-necked husky who smokes black cigars and swears, you have to admit the truth of this assertion so far as you are concerned.

Sounds like moralizing, doesn't it? And yet it's God's own truth!

It was convictions such as these which caused me to write "Dawson Black." I wanted to give the world a book which would not be a learned and technical treatise on retail merchandising, but would give a picture of business life as it really is—not as the world mis-sees it.

I have tried to make "Dawson Black" a human being, not an automaton to go through a series of jerky motions to illustrate principles. I wanted him to do some things wrong and suffer for it, and somethings right, and perhaps still suffer a little; but I wanted to make his business lifeREAL. I wanted the reader to say to himself, "By Jove! I did just that same fool thing myself!"

And, underneath all this, I wanted to present a few of the principles of retail merchandising. I wanted to show that the result of the correct application of principle was sure, and that a principle of retail merchandising is applicable to every kind of retail store—be it the little corner Italian fruit stand, or be it the largest department store in the country; be it hardware, drygoods, drugs, shoes, plumbing, or what not.

This book will have answered its purpose if it encourages you to persevere by showing that the majority of people make the same mistakes that you do,—and inspires you with the nobility of business, and in particular convinces you that you are not working for money, but for the happiness you can give somebody else in addition to yourself.

Harold Whitehead.

I hadn't seen Aunt Emma for five years, and, candidly, I had never thought a great deal of her; so you can imagine how surprised I was when a long-whiskered chap blew in at the Mater's to-day and told me that Aunt Emma had died, and—had left me eight thousand dollars in cash and a farm in the Berkshires!

Of course my first thought was to hunt up Betty and get her to help me celebrate!

We had a bully good time! Betty was delighted with my good fortune; but scolded me for not being sorry aunty had died. I suppose I should have pretended I was sorry, although, having met her only twice in my life, she was practically a stranger to me.

I told Betty I thought I'd throw up my job with Barlow—he runs the Main Street Hardware Store—and get a store of my own.

We had quite a talk over it. Betty approved of it and said she was sure I would succeed. She reminded me, though, that I was only twenty-two, and said that if I did buy a store I should get some one to adviseme about it. She's a fine girl, Betty, but of course she knew nothing about business.

The next morning I put an advertisement in the county paper. Fellows, a chap I know who works at the Flaxon Advertising Company—he's some relation to Betty—said I ought to have used a trade paper, but I told him I didn't want to go far from home, and a trade paper would probably bring me answers from Oshkosh and Kankakee and such funny places, and I would simply be paying out good money to get offers from places I didn't want to go to. Not that I wouldn't like to travel, but Betty would . . . well, never mind what Betty would or wouldn't.—There goes the telephone bell. . . .

Isn't it funny! I had just got back from seeing Fellows when I had a telephone call from Jim Simpson. Jim was a young fellow, only a little older than I, who ran a hardware store right here in Farmdale. I used to go to school with him. He called it a hardware store, but his business was confined to kitchen furnishings and household hardware. It seemed he wanted to go out West and offered to sell me his store cheap.

Fancy! Jim Simpson, right here in our town, wanting to sell out, and me wanting to buy a store, and neither of us knowing it! I telephoned to Betty to tell her about it, and she said to be careful, because she didn't like him. Aren't women funny, with their likes and dislikes, without knowing why! Jim was a pretty smart fellow, and while the store wasn't just exactly what I had in mind, he did a fairly good business. I made an appointment with Jim to see him the next day.

Well I guess a streak of lightning has nothing on me! Before night I was the owner of the Black Hardware Store, for I had bought Jim out and was to take possession the following Monday! I had seen Jim's books and I knew everything was all right. Jim was a good fellow, and he promised to give me all the help and advice that I wanted. He said he'd like to stay in town with me for a few weeks, only he was anxious to go out West right away.

The store had $9460.00 worth of goods, reckoned at cost. Jim agreed to let me have all his fixtures and show-cases, which he said had cost him over a thousand dollars, and good-will, for $540.00, making the cost of the store to me $10,000.00.

When Jim told me the cost would be $10,000.00 I was considerably disappointed, for I had only $8000.00 besides the farm. I told Jim the farm was worth, I thought, about $8500.00, but I couldn't sell that right away and, of course, I couldn't pay out all my ready cash, because I wouldn't have anything left for operating expenses.

Jim was pretty decent about it, and said:

"You give me $7000.00 in cash and a mortgage on the farm and I'll give you a year to pay the balance. With the big profit you can make in this store, you'll be able to pay that $3000.00 in no time at all. Besides, if you couldn't quite manage it in a year, I'd renew it, of course."

But I thought I ought to have more than $1000.00 left, and finally it was agreed that I should give him $6500.00 in cash and a mortgage on the farm for $3500.00

I had my $8000.00 deposited in the Farmdale TrustCompany, so we went over there and I gave him a check for the $6500.00. I thought I ought to do well with $1500.00 besides that splendid store of goods.

Jim had started out to be a lawyer and had studied law for a while, and he said he would draw up the mortgage himself so there wouldn't be any delay about it. I brought him over some legal-looking papers I had from Aunt Emma's estate—deeds, he called them—and we fixed that up without any trouble.

I asked Jim if we ought not to take stock together, and he said, "Sure, if you want to;" but I found that he had an exact stock-keeping system, and Jim suggested that we pick out about a dozen items and just check those up—"for," said he, "what's the use of checking up fifty cents' worth of this and thirty cents' worth of that? Your time is too valuable for that."

I agreed with him, for I couldn't afford to waste my time now that I was the owner of a store.

Betty asked me that night if I had had a lawyer to go over the thing with me, but I laughed at her and said, "I don't want a lawyer for a little deal like this between Jim and me." I told her it would have been almost an insult to have suggested that I wanted a lawyer. She shook her head sadly and said something about a man who was his own lawyer having a fool for a client—which I thought was not at all called for!

Before going to bed, I figured out what the store should be worth to me. Jim had told me he turned over his stock about three times a year, and that he made about 10 per cent. clear profit. Three times $9460.00 would be $28,380.00; and if he made 10 per cent., clear profit, that would be $2838.00 a year—call it $3000.00 a year. That was $60.00 a week! Gee!—some jump from what I was getting at Barlow's! I thought how easy it was to make money when you had some to start with! Here I had been working my head off for a year and a half and getting only $10.00 a week, and now I would be making $60.00. I decided to ask Betty to—oh, well, I'd wait a month or two until I saw if it worked out just like that. Better be on the safe side!

Mother had a talk with me about the store, in the morning and asked me to try to get my money back from Jim. She said she had never liked Jim, and that he was a bit careless in his transactions. When mother said anybody was careless in their transactions, she meant he was a crook, but I knew Jim better than that, and I told her so. Mother said she didn't want me to lose my money as soon as I'd got it.

I was all the Mater had, for Dad had died a few years before. Fortunately, his life was well insured and mother had enough to live on. I told her I was a young progressive, but I was not taking any chances with anything that affected her, so there was no need for her to worry.

I told Barlow that I'd have to leave him that day because I had bought out Jim Simpson's store and was to start in on the following Monday. He looked at me for a minute, and said:

"Have you paid him for it yet?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I suppose Jim's going out West, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," I said again.

He paused again, and then he said:

"Well, look here, son, you've always been a good worker with me. You still have a lot to learn, however, because you wasted your evenings instead ofdoing some studying, but I'd like to see you 'make good' and I'll help you all I can."

I was surprised at this, and I said:

"But, Mr. Barlow, we'll be competitors then!"

I began to like Barlow very much then, for he put his hand on my shoulder, and said:

"Look here, son, can't we be competitors and yet be friends! Remember, I have a store several times larger than the one you are going into, so it is you who will have to compete with me, not I with you."

That was a new thought to me all right.

"We can be friends, even if we are competitors, you know," Mr. Barlow continued, "and if you get into any kind of trouble, come around and see me and I'll do what I can to help you."

I was sure he meant it, too. And all the time I had thought that Barlow was a "has been." What a different slant you seem to get on people as soon as you get up to their position! I suppose it's just like climbing a mountain; if you want to see the view the other fellow sees, you have to get up to the same height which he has surmounted.

I had an interesting chat with Jim that day. I went to the store and he had marked about twenty items on his stock book, which he said was a perpetual inventory. He passed the book over to me, and said, "I've marked a couple of dozen items which you can look over. I've picked out some of the things that run into a lot of money, because those are the things you are most careful about, aren't they?—and I didn't think you'd want to waste your time over a lot of trivial things."

I checked those up with him and in one case I foundthere was even more stock than Jim said. I laughed and said, "I got you there, Jim! This wonderful perpetual inventory isn't perfect, after all!"

"Well, of course," he replied, "there might be a fraction of a difference here and there, but in the main it's bound to be correct." He continued, with a bit of a grin, "If you're a little short in one thing, you'll find a little bit over on another; and anyhow, you've got your fixtures for half of what they're worth, to allow for any little discrepancy that may crop up."

He showed me how the cash register worked and how to total up the week's sales. I saw the previous week's figures were $311.28. I wondered at that, and said:

"Why, Jim, if you sell $28,000.00 worth a year, you should have about $560.00 worth of sales a week!"

"Oh," he replied, "don't you know this is the quiet time for kitchen goods? You've got to expect some quiet time, you know. In one respect it's a good time for you to take the store over, for you'll have time enough to get yourself fully familiar with the store."

"You know, Dawson," he went on, "if you were to take over this store about September or October, when you're simply rushed to death with business, it might easily put you on your back. You might lose a tremendous lot of business just because it came too quick for you to handle, whereas, buying the store when the business is quiet will give you a chance to learn how to handle it."

I decided that, as soon as possible, I would go over my stock carefully and rearrange it and if I shouldhappen to find any dead stock I'd have a sale and clean it out and buy a lot of new stock; and, believe me, I'd give old Barlow the biggest run for his money he ever had!

I used to think that old Barlow had an easy time as boss of my former store, but the first day, there seemed to be so many things to do, so many things to decide, that my head was in a whirl.

I intended to begin a thorough stock-taking, but hadn't a chance to touch it—so many things cropped up.

I had a row with one of the help, a fellow named Larsen. Larsen had been at the store for over thirty years. He was there before Jim Simpson got it and he was with two of the proprietors before that. He told me he wanted his last two weeks' pay. When I asked him what he meant, he said that Jim had told him to ask me for it, as he had arranged with me to pay it.

I didn't believe him. Jim wouldn't do anything like that, I was sure, and I told Larsen that in so many words. He asked me if I thought he was a liar. I told him he knew that better than I did. I told him if he didn't know how to speak to his superiors, he could just pack his things and go, and I would have him know that I was boss there. Larsen shrugged his shoulders and said:

"You go with me and see Simpson before he runs away. You ask him whether I lie or not. I don'tinsult you. I simply tell you what I know. You call me a crook! If you were an older man you would know better. I've been here thirty years. No one has ever questioned me. My word is as good as his."

To please him I said we would go and see Jim the next day at his home. I couldn't go that night, for I was too busy. Jim called in at the store for a few minutes in the morning, and said he expected to be around for a few days in case I wanted to see him about anything.

I told Betty that evening about the dispute with Larsen, and to my surprise she sided with him. It looked as if Betty and mother had got up a conspiracy to disagree with everything I did! Still, thought I, "what do women know of business?"

I thought Betty was right in one thing, however, when she said to me:

"Did Mr. Barlow ever speak to you about knowing your place?"

"Why, no," I said.

"I'll tell you why, boy. You see, he knows he's boss, and everybody else knows it, and he knows that if he is to get the best out of his people he has got to get them to workwithhim and notforhim. The way you treated Larsen will tend to make him merely work for you and not for the interests of the business. He will simply use you as a makeshift until he can get something else. If you want to get the very best out of the people who work for you, you have got to take a real interest in them, and treat them with the same courtesy that you want to be treated with."

I was just going to tell her that I couldn't be the boss there unless I made them keep their place, but she held up her hand and said:

"Wait a minute, boy. I'm a year younger than you, but I'm older than you in many respects. You are only a big boy and you want some one to look after you." She blushed a little as she said this. "You are impetuous. You say things which you don't mean. You speak so sharply at times that people misunderstand your naturally kind disposition and think that you are fault-finding. And then you are really so conceited that you hate to admit you are wrong, with the result that you leave people with a wrong impression of you. Do you remember that saying about the man who conquers himself being greater than he who masters a city? You should learn to think a little more carefully about what you say before you say it. Remember that you can say something sharp to the help and then forget it the next minute; but they won't forget it. They will think it over and it will rankle and they will feel spiteful toward you, and they'll do something to 'get even' with you."

I hated to admit it, but I had got a hunch that Betty was very nearly right. I decided I would try to control my tongue a little more, and would remember that the people who worked for me would do better work for me if they liked and respected me.

The next morning, I went around with Larsen, as I had promised him, to see Jim Simpson, and found that he had gone. He had left a note for me saying that he found he had an opportunity to get away and that he would write me his address in a few days.

Larsen saw me twisting his note in my fingers whileI was thinking about it there, and he came over and said:

"Can I see that note, Boss?"

I passed it to him. He read it, shook his head, and said:

"Guess you believe me now, don't you, Mr. Black?"

I nodded. That's all I could do.

He shrugged his shoulders and said:

"Well, two weeks' money don't hurt me very much. I hope, Boss, he hasn't stung you."

I went cold at the thought of it. I didn't think it could be true, but, when I came to think it over, I realized that I had taken his word for almost everything.

I went home and told mother and Betty about it, and they advised me to get in touch with Mr. Barlow at once. I said I wouldn't do that—I wasn't going to leave a man and then two or three days afterwards run to him for help. I thought of Fellows of the Flaxon Advertising Company. I telephoned his house and, fortunately, caught him, and he came right around to see me.

He asked me if I had had a lawyer draw up the agreement. I told him "no." He asked me if I had had an inventory made before buying the store. I told him "no." He asked me if I had verified the profits of the business for the last two years. I told him "no." He asked me if I had had the books audited at all. I told him "no."

"Good God, lad," he said, "what have you done, anyhow?"

And then I acted like a fool. I burst out crying and told him that what I had done had been to makean ass of myself and to give Jim Simpson $6500.00.

He thought a minute and said:

"Well, I should think the store would be worth very nearly that, from what I know of it. It may not be so bad, after all."

But, when I told him that I had also given Jim a note for $3500.00 he persuaded me to go to see a lawyer in the morning, and promised that he would telephone to Boston to arrange with a jobber whom he knew and from whom I knew Jim Simpson bought goods, to send some one over to help me take an inventory.

I spent a wretched night wondering if Jim, after all, would play such a dirty trick as to rob an old schoolmate.

Fellows telephoned me from his office and said that if I would come there, the lawyer was there and we could all talk the matter over together.

In ten minutes I knew the truth, I learned that the transfer was made properly to me and that I was responsible for that $3500.00, and, according to the deed of transfer which Jim gave me, the note for $3500.00 was payableon demand.

I told Barrington, the lawyer, that I'd swear the note was payable one year after date. He asked me, "Are you sure?"—and if he hadn't asked me that I would have been, but as it was I was wondering which it was. He asked me again, "Are you sure it isn't a payable-on-demand note?" I didn't know, and I didn't know Jim's address!

Barrington then said that the best thing to do was to get an inventory made as quickly as possible, and then try to get hold of Simpson and see if we couldn't adjust it with him.

"But," he said—and he looked at me very sternly—"if anything is done it will be purely because of his generosity or because of the fear we can instill into him. You are legally responsible for the $3500.00and apparently it is payable on demand. How much is the farm worth on which you gave him a mortgage?"

I told him it was worth about $8,500.00.

"Hum," he said, and pursed his lips.

"Couldn't I deed it to Mother or somebody," I said, "and save it?"

He shook his head. "No, that wouldn't be legal," he said.

"How I wish I had come to you at first!" I said.

"Yes," he replied absentmindedly, "that's the trouble with many so-called business men. They never think of using a lawyer to keep them out of trouble, but come to them only after they have got into it!"

A salesman from Bates & Hotchkin came in the afternoon and said his firm had told him about my wanting an inventory taken and offered to stay with me till it was done.

"What will it cost?" I asked. My $1500.00 began to look very small to me then.

He smiled and shook his head, and said:

"It won't cost you anything. If we can be of service to you, we want to be."

I had also arranged for an accountant to go over the books. He was a Scotchman, named Jock McTavish, and he was to come the next morning.

Betty urged me to have him install a proper accounting system for me while he was on the job. I shook my head and said:

"There may not be anything worth putting an accounting system in for. I've ruined my life and I've spoiled my chances of your—"

She put her hand over my mouth and said:

"Don't be silly! Now is the time to see if you have any manhood in you. Anybody can talk big when everything goes right! No one ever made a success without having some failure. Don't you remember what Lord Beaconsfield said, when he was asked how he attained success?"

I shook my head gloomily.

"He said, 'By using my failures as stepping stones to success!'"

"Well," said I, "I've certainly one big stepping stone here."

"Quite right," said she, "then step up it like a man!"

A girl like Betty, I thought, was worth bucking up for! I just set my teeth and decided I would pull through the thing somehow!

I thought the worst had happened, but I found it hadn't. Herson, the salesman from Bates & Hotchkin, completed the inventory, the next day, with the assistance of the others in the store. I can't say I did much to help, for I was simply consumed with anxiety. All I did was to serve customers while it was going on, and that helped to keep me from worrying too much.

Herson came over to me when he finished the inventory and said:

"I'm afraid you are going to be sadly disappointed at the figures. I have put the goods in at their present valuation, as near as I can figure it, and I find that there are $8,100.00 worth."

"Then," said I, "I have lost over a thousand dollars on that stock—$1,360.00!"

"You surely have," said he.

"Well," I thought, "even so, there's a chance of recovering, and Betty is looking to me to make good and I must!"

But there was worse to come! McTavish, the accountant, found that the average sales for the last two years were only $22,000.00 in round figures, and I had estimated at $28,000.00.

"My," I said to him, "that will bring the profits down to about $40.00 a week!"

"No," he replied, "they'll no be mooch over half o' that."

"Why?" I asked in amazement.

"Because," said he, "you based your estimate of pr-rofits on the percentage of expense. Therefore, Meester Black, the less your sales are, the gr-reater becomes the percentage of expense."

I didn't quite follow this, but he continued:

"Ye should set a dead-line of expense and departmentize your costs."

I looked quite mystified by this, and he explained:

"Do ye noo compr-rehend? I mean ye should have only a certain percentage of expense for rent, salaries, advertising and se-emilar items, and then plan your expenses not to exceed these percentages."

"I see," said I. "Will you help me with that?"

"I surely will. I can give the matter some attention in aboot a week," said he.

"Then," said I, "so far as you can see, the business, instead of showing me a profit of about $60.00 a week, will show me only a profit of about $25.00."

"Just aboot that," he replied. "Indeed, it will approximate somewhat less. There is one other matter,Mr. Black, I would suggest you do at once, and that is, let me see the agreement you had wi' that mon, Simpson."

"That's at Barrington's," I said.

"Well, can we no get hold of Barrington noo?"

"Surely. I'll introduce you to him."

"Don't fash yoursel'," said he with a smile, "that'll no be necessary, for he was in the store while ye were at yer lunch to-day and I had a convarsation with him."

"What's the trouble, then?" I asked.

"Merely this," said he, and he put his arm on my shoulder very kindly. "That mon, Simpson, left $527.00 worth of accounts which he did no pay and I believe by the agreement ye made wi' him that ye're liable for them."

I was too thunderstruck to say anything! What a hash I had made of my first week's business! So far as I could see, I had given up a good job for one with very little more real money, but a lot of care and worry; I had been robbed of about $1,300.00 in stock and $500.00 in unexpected liabilities. My first week's business, then, showed me a loss of nearly $2,000.00! I began to think I was not so all-fired clever as I thought I was!

Betty was a little brick! When I told her all about it, she said:

"Well, I don't see anything soverydreadful in that. If you have it in you to make a business man, you can soon increase the sales of the store so that you will be making all you thought you would, and perhaps it won't hurt you to lose a little money at the beginning. Even now, you are much better off than a great manyother people are. If only Simpson doesn't demand his $3,500.00 at once, so that you don't lose the farm"—I shivered at the thought—"you'll pull through all right."

When I figured up the sales at the end of the week there was nothing like the $560.00 that I was figuring on. It was only $281.15. I had more respect then for proprietors of retail stores than I had a week before! I hoped that next week I would have that division of expense worked out so that I could know just what my expenses were going to be.

On the following Monday, I was in the store, feeling kind of blue over the general muddle I had made of things, when who should go by but Betty and Stigler! If there was one man in the town I disliked, it was Stigler. He was one of those narrow-faced individuals who goes around with a perpetual sneer. I never heard of him saying or doing anything good to any one. It was said of him that he was so mean that he grew a wart on the back of his neck to save buying a collar button!

Stigler was in love with Betty. I didn't blame him for that; but what she could see in a fellow like him got me! I was jealous—I know I was jealous, and I told Betty so when she accused me of it that night.

"Dawson," she said, "you act like a jealous, spoiled child."

And then the love, that had been growing in my heart, became too great to contain.

"Betty," I cried hotly, "you know how much I love you! Do you wonder that I'm jealous, when I see you with that man?"

"And why shouldn't I be with him?" she said archly.

"Well, you can't be with him any more," I said.

"Hoity-toity! and who are you to tell me whom I shall or shall not go with?"

Her words were discouraging, but something in her eyes. . . .

Something had happened to the town when I left Betty's house. The hard pavements were gone, and instead of them were beautiful silvery clouds. The ordinary air had changed into exhilarating ether. I wanted to sing; I wanted to tell people of my good fortune; but everybody must have known it to have looked at me. I kept saying to myself, "I'm engaged to be married! I'm engaged to be married!" When the teams went by they went "Clickclackety click!—clickclackety click!—I'm engaged to be married!—I'm engaged to be married!"

Mother had gone to bed when I got home, but I woke her up and told her the good news. I expected her to be surprised, but she wasn't a bit. All she said was: "Well, everybody knew it but you!"

I suppose it is because Love is blind that I didn't know. I told mother that we were going to be married on the 19th of June.

"Do you think it wise to get married so soon?"

"Yes, indeed," I said, "I need the help of a woman like Betty in my business. You see, mother, her business experience and her—"

Mother kissed me on the lips and said:

"Don't bother to think up any excuses—Love itself is sufficient excuse for that."

I saw some tears in mother's eyes. I put my arm around her waist and said:

"You are happy, aren't you, mother, dear?"

She kissed me again and pushed me from her, and hurried to her room. When she got to the door she turned around and said, "God bless you, my boy."

Believe me, I hadsomemother.

On Tuesday I received a request for "immediate payment" of a demand note for $3,500.00, through some shyster lawyer in New York.

I took it up to Barrington and asked him what to do about it. He gave me a paper to sign, and I put my name to it without bothering to read it. He then spoke sharply to me, and said:

"For heaven's sake, lad, haven't you learned better than to sign your name to a paper without reading it?"

"B-but," I said, stammering, "it's different with you!"

"Different be damned!" he exclaimed petulantly. Then, "Excuse me, young man, but really, for a man in business you are acting very childishly. You thought Jim Simpson was your friend and trusted him. Now, even after the mess you got into, you haven't learned your lesson, and you sign anything I ask you to, without looking at it!"

I read it through, and it was something about giving him full power to act for me in the matter of the note.

"Now," said he, "this is going to cost you some money"—I winced at this—"but I'll see if I can't save you something."

He got the New York lawyer on the long distance and offered him a thousand dollars cash in full settlement of the claim, or else threatened to contest the legality of the note. The upshot of it was that Barrington made a trip to New York to see him, and they compromised on $1,250.00.

When Barrington returned from New York he came around to the house to see me.

"Well," he said, "I think I've saved you some money this time. I've settled that claim for $1,250.00 cash, which I have paid."

He gave me also the bill of expenses which he had incurred. I put the figures on a bit of paper and twisted it nervously, wondering how I was going to pay that sum of money; for I remembered I had only $1,500.00 in the bank, and I had those bills to pay that Jim left behind and which I had unknowingly agreed to assume. Barrington and the accountant between them compromised on those, by the way, at seventy-five cents on the dollar, but there was nearly $400.00 to pay there, and if I paid that $1,250.00 with the expenses it would wipe out my bank account completely.

Barrington looked at me quizzically, and asked:

"What's worrying you now, young man?"

I told him. He laughed, and then remarked:

"That needn't worry you at all. You have your farm clear now and I'll take a mortgage on it for $1,500.00, and that will enable you to pay this bill up right away and still hold your farm. I was just looking for an investment of about that size. You are no worse off than before, and I will simply have a lien on the farm for $1,500.00 instead of Simpson having one for $3,500.00; and really, in this case, I think you will be much safer."

The next morning we fixed up the mortgage.

I hoped then that I was through with the troubles of getting the business from Simpson. But when I reviewed what it had cost me I wondered why I ever gave up my safe, easy job with Barlow! I think the trouble with me was that I didn't realize that, while I wasn't making much money, I certainly wasn't taking any risk and was learning a good business. I realized then how stupidly I used to fool away a lot of time that I was paid for. When I thought of the hours I often shirked and the jobs I used to leave undone, I wondered that Barlow didn't fire me and the other fellows long ago. I wondered if other bosses had just the same trouble? I wondered if I was just an average store clerk?

What a different view you take of things when you become a boss yourself! Already I felt that the people working for me should consider my interests, and not hesitate to work hard for me; and yet when I was a clerk only two weeks before I used to begrudge doing the least thing more than my bare duties called for, and I had always felt I ought to get an immediate cash return for anything extra I did. For the first time I realized that I used to panhandle along through the week just working for the pay envelope without much thought of Barlow's welfare at all.

Well, I had surely learned a lesson. I was a wiser man than I had been two weeks before. In that brief time more things had happened to me than had ever happened before, I guess. I had inherited $8,000.00 cash and a farm worth $8,500.00; I had bought out Jim Simpson, and then found only $8,100.00 worth of stock when I thought I was getting $9,460.00; I had given him a demand note for $3,500.00 which Ithought was for twelve months; I had assumed over $400.00 worth of bills of which I didn't know anything at all; and, finally, I had found that the business amounted to only $22,000.00 a year instead of $28,000.00.

I was reciting this tale of woe to Betty when she remarked:

"Well, you can't do anything else wrong just yet, can you?"

"I don't know," I declared. "It seems to me that I can't do anything right!"

I promised Betty to follow the accountant's advice and set a deadline of expenses.

He and I had worked that out. It seemed that my expenses were far too high for the business I was doing. Said he:

"Ye are doing noo only aboot $22,000.00 a year. Ye hae a stock of approximately $8,000.00, and ye really should be doing $42,000.00 a year wi' it."

"How do you figure that out?" I asked.

"That's on the tur-rn-over."

"Turn-over?"

"Yes, ye ought to tur-rn over your investment in goods three and a half times a year—that is, ye ought to sell out your $8,000.00 stock that number of times; and as ye plan to add aboot 50 per cent. for the pr-rofit, ye should sell aboot $42,000.00 worth of goods within the peeriod of a year."

"And I am selling only $22,000.00? Then you mean to say that I am selling only about half as much hardware as I ought to with my present stock?"

"That statement of yours is just aboot correct," said he with a nod.

"Wait a minute!" I cried excitedly. "You've made a mistake. I don't make 50 per cent. profit. I make only 33 1-3 per cent., all around!"

"Ye mean," he declared quietly, "that ye make only 33 1-3 per cent.on sales. To get that percentage ye hae to add 50 per cent. onto your cost. Your percentage of profit on sales is verra deefferent frae your percentage o' profit on cost. Bide a wee," said he, and he did some rapid figuring on a slip of paper. "This will perhaps make it clearer to ye," and he handed it to me.

I never realized, until he worked it out, just the difference between profit on cost and profit on sales. Here it is:

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