Dawson Black: Retail Merchant Part 31

"I don't think it's so foolish," interrupted Mother.

There it was! First they had disagreed about the toys, and then, when I disagreed with either of them, they sided together! Well, I finally gave way--I might have done it in the first place and saved the trouble--and I invited the whole bunch of them up on the following Friday night. It seemed to me a risky experiment, but Betty was so keen on it--and I had to admit she was no fool. Anyhow, I didn't think it could do much harm.

When the evening had come, and gone, and they had all left the house, Betty squared herself in front of me, and said:

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?"

Solemnly I replied: "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings--"

"I don't know whether you are the babe, or the suckling; but it's very seldom wisdom cometh forth from you!" she broke in; but her eyes were dancing with delight at the success of the evening--for it certainly had been a success.

Jimmie's mother had kept looking at Betty all night, and whatever Betty said she agreed to. She was a good-hearted soul, who was always quoting "my Jimmie." She had no ideas of her own whatever, and she believed that Betty was a kind of guardian angel. It seemed that some weeks ago Jimmie had had a bad cold, and Betty had noticed it while in the store and had gone across the road and bought some cough lozenges which she gave him.

She had forgotten all about it; but ever since then Betty has been on a pedestal in that household. . . . Isn't it queer what a little act of kindness like that will lead to?

Jones' girl was named Elsie Perkins. I didn't like the name Elsie; but she was much better than her name. She was a quiet little girl, but had an opinion and will of her own. She worked at the bank and was Blickens' personal stenographer. I never even knew that Jones was acquainted with her! How little the majority of people do know about their employees; and if they only knew more about them, how easy it would be to get better results from them!

That evening certainly resulted in a more friendly feeling among my little staff than ever there was before.

Mrs. La.r.s.en was a very queer woman. When she came in she _bristled_--do you know what I mean by that? Well, whenever any one said anything to her she bristled all up, as if there was going to be an argument. When she came into the house and La.r.s.en introduced me, I said:

"How do you do, Mrs. La.r.s.en?"

"How do you do, Mr. Black?" she replied sharply, and the way she said it conveyed the idea that she was absolutely on the defensive.

I went into the kitchen, later, while Betty was there, and I said to her:

"What is the matter with Mrs. La.r.s.en?"

"I don't know. Doesn't she act queerly?"

"She doesn't like us for some reason or other."

"Has La.r.s.en ever said anything about it?"

"Never a word."

"Why not tell her how much you think of La.r.s.en, and how lucky you feel to have him as your manager?" suggested Betty.

"I see. Soft-soap the old girl. All right."

I had to hurry back into the room then, because I couldn't leave my guests for long. In a few minutes I was talking to Mrs. La.r.s.en about the hard time we had had when I bought the business. "I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for your husband, Mrs. La.r.s.en. I certainly think I'm lucky to have him, and I know he thinks he's lucky to have you!"

"So you think that you are lucky to have my husband working for you, do you, Mr. Black?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed; he is a mighty fine man, and I think a lot of him, Mrs.

La.r.s.en." I spoke with all sincerity.

"Do you know how old my husband is?"

"Why, n-no. How old is he?" I couldn't see any reason for her question, which was asked in the same frigid manner, but I responded with polite interest.

"Fifty-four," was her response.

"Is he that old?" I was floundering, for I felt that I had altogether missed my aim in trying to pacify her.

"Yes, fifty-five next January. . . . And after forty years' work he is very valuable to a hardware store--so valuable that he gets twenty dollars a week!"

Hadn't I got my foot into it! "T-that's nothing like your husband's real value, Mrs. La.r.s.en," I stuttered, "b-but you know I've only had the store about six months and I had some very heavy losses at the beginning."

"So my husband should bear your loss, is that it?"

I was getting angry and was about to make some tart rejoinder; but, just as I was about to speak, I felt Betty's hand on my shoulder. She had quietly come into the room and heard Mrs. La.r.s.en's last remark. To my surprise, Betty took over the conversation.

"Just what I was telling Mr. Black," she said sweetly. "I told him that, if he ever expected to get people to work whole-heartedly with him, he would have to let them share in his profits."

"And his losses?" broke in Mrs. La.r.s.en.

"Yes, and his losses. For instance, take the case of Mr. La.r.s.en and Mr.

Jones--and Jimmie," she said, looking at the last-named with a twinkle in her eye. "They have all had to bear some of Mr. Black's losses; and it was a case of either sharing the loss or Mr. Black getting some one else to share it, for, if he had paid them what they were worth, he would have failed, and you see then they as well as Mr. Black would have all been out of work. As it is, I really think my husband has turned the corner, although it's only six months since he took over the store.

. . . And it has been a pretty busy six months, hasn't it, Mr. La.r.s.en?"

"You bet it has," he returned heartily.

"And a pretty happy six months?"

"The happiest I have had in my life!"

"Well, I think," Betty continued, "that we are going to have many more happy months; and one reason we asked you all here was to let you know so; because, you know, Mrs. La.r.s.en, your hubby can't work well for Mr.

Black unless he has your help, just the same as Mr. Black can't work well without my help. . . . These men are helpless things without us women to cheer them up, aren't they, Mrs. La.r.s.en?"

"That's so," she nodded, thawing under the suns.h.i.+ne of Betty's words. "I tell my husband sometimes he is a fool, and I don't know how people endure him, but he's good to me." Then she stopped, embarra.s.sed, for she had made her first remark without "bristling."

"I know this, Mrs. La.r.s.en," said Betty, "that no man is worth much in business, unless he has a good woman at the back of him, to help and encourage him. . . . You agree with me, don't you, Mr. Jones?"

His answer was to blush red and sheepishly grin, first at Betty, and then at Elsie.

"Well," Betty went on, while I stood by, too astonished to say anything, and indeed not knowing what was coming, "Mr. Black and I talked over, right from the beginning, the advisability of starting a profit-sharing plan. Now, we haven't worked it out--in fact, he has only just decided definitely to go ahead with it; but he purposes that, by the time he has finished his first year in business, if not even sooner, he will arrange some plan whereby he can divide a share of his profits, if he makes any, with his help. . . . We talked it over yesterday,"--what little liars these women are sometimes!--"and Mr. Black said he wanted to have the women-folk, who made his little staff so effective, know what he was trying to do for them. You see, Mrs. Wilkes, Jimmie here will get a little bit of profit--let's see, every three months you were thinking of paying the bonus, wasn't it, Dawson?"--I gulped and looked at Betty with amazement, and I must say, admiration, and nodded--"so, you see, that Jimmie, every three months, will have a little check to bring home as a little extra money, which he can put in the savings bank; and--"

"How much is it likely to be?" asked Jimmie eagerly.

"Bless the boy, I don't know. You may not be worth anything. You may be having more now than you're worth," she said teasingly.

"Not my Jimmie," said Mrs. Wilkes a little indignantly. "My Jimmie"--and here she entered into a paean of praise of Jimmie.

Then Betty continued:

"And Mr. Jones will have a little check which will probably come in very handily for--furniture?" she said, looking at Elsie. Elsie's only answer was a blush. "And you, Mrs. La.r.s.en, will probably have a check from Mr.

La.r.s.en, every three months, which will help, at any rate, to give Mr.