CHAPTER XIII
THE NEW ASSISTANT
“If I only had a tin dinner-pail!” reflected Jimmy regretfully ashe turned into West street the next morning and caught sight of thegay sign above the doorway of Number 112. His enthusiasm had broughthim there at a minute after half-past eight and to his surprise thestore was still locked. But Russell had provided him with a key andJimmy thrust it into the lock with an important air and swung open thecreaking door. The place exhaled a stale odor of withered flowers, andJimmy traversed the long aisle and threw open the rear door as well.From the unwillingness displayed by the bolts he judged that thatportal was seldom disturbed. He looked out. There was a diminutiveyard there surrounded by a sagging board fence and littered with boxesand rubbish. A gate gave onto a narrow alley beyond which was anotherfence above whose rim could be seen the trees and white gables and redchimney-tops of the residences on State street. Jimmy went back intothe store and looked about him. Through the front door came the morningsunlight, displaying to his disapproving gaze a very dirty floor.
“Might as well do the thing right,” said Jimmy to himself. In a darkcorner stood a dilapidated broom. In the back yard he had noted a boxhalf-full of sawdust. Jimmy removed his coat, folded it, placed itbeneath the counter alongside the cigar box that did duty as a moneydrawer for the Sign of the Football, and went to work. A small sink atthe back of the store provided water, and Jimmy moistened the sawdustthoroughly and then, starting at the front of the place, sprinkled itlavishly. After that, whistling blithely, he went to work. Now andthen he paused to observe a passer or to watch hopefully some one whohad paused outside the window. But no one infringed on his solitude;no one, that is, until Jimmy had the sawdust swept nearly to the backdoor. Then it was Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer who appeared.
He showed no surprise at Jimmy’s presence. Perhaps he had overheardthe arrangements being made yesterday. But he did show a concern thatalmost amounted to disapproval. “H’m,” he said sadly, viewing the thickwindrow of dirty sawdust in front of the boy’s broom. “H’m.”
“Good morning,” responded Jimmy brightly. “Cleaning up a bit, you see,sir.”
“Yes. H’m. Well, there’s a man comes in to do that the first of themonth. Washes the windows, too.”
“Whether it’s needed or not,” said Jimmy innocently.
“Sweeping makes a good deal of dust,” continued the other severely.
“Collects a good deal, too,” answered Jimmy, continuing toward the door.
Mr. Pulsifer pretended to be affected by the dust and cougheddelicately. “It’s bad for the flowers,” he said querulously. “I’drather you didn’t do it, my boy.”
He coughed again and went back to his wire enclosure. Being called“my boy” grated on Jimmy and he leaned on the handle of his broom andfavored Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer with a malignant stare. Then he finishedhis job, placed the now almost useless broom back in the dim corner,washed his hands, dried them on his breeches for want of other meansand started after his coat.
“Please close the back door if you’re through,” said Mr. Pulsiferdrearily. “There’s a draft.”
Jimmy obeyed. When he had his coat on again he stationed himself behindthe small show-case and looked into the street. After a while thatoccupation palled and he pulled a box down from a shelf and removedthe lid. It was empty. So was the next one. So were all boxes in thattier. Jimmy grinned and tried the next pile. He was more fortunate.Three gray sweaters rewarded him. He took one out, examined it, heldit before him and shook his head.
“Too small,” he muttered. The others were too small also. He put thegarments back and returned the box to its place. Then he surveyed thegoods in the window. Raising his eyes, he saw two boys doing the samething from beyond the glass. They weren’t Academy fellows, nor, sincethe hour was now nine o’clock, could they be high school fellows. Yetthey were well dressed and appeared to have plenty of time on theirhands. In age they were evidently about sixteen years. Their gazeswere set on the tennis racket and they were discussing it seriously.Jimmy could see their lips moving, but could hear no sounds. After amoment he withdrew from sight and went swiftly to the doorway. Therehe stepped just outside and leaned a shoulder negligently against theframe. The two boys were still admiring and discussing. Jimmy startedto whistle, his gaze set across the street on Whitson’s Blue FrontPharmacy. The sound drew the boys’ attention and at the same instantJimmy turned his eyes their way. Jimmy had a winning smile, and now heused it. The nearer of the two boys smiled back. The other drew away asthough to continue his journey along the street.
“Come on in, fellows, and let me show you some things,” invited Jimmy.“I’m looking for something to do.”
“We were just--looking,” murmured the nearer youth.
“Sure!” responded Jimmy heartily. “Come on inside and look. You don’tneed to buy anything. Let me show you a tennis racket, maybe, or asweater.” He drew back invitingly. There was low-voiced colloquyand the two followed hesitantly inside. Jimmy reached the back ofthe counter by the simple expedient of placing one hand thereon andvaulting it. That seemed to put the visitors more at their ease, andone of them laughed and said:
“Say, how much is that tennis racket in the window?”
“That one?” Jimmy reached over the curtain and brought the racket intoview, as he did so reading the tag attached to the handle. “Have aslant at it,” he invited, handing it to the questioner. “That’s a niceracket. One of Proctor and Farnham’s. You won’t find another one ofthose in this town.” He might have added “or in this store,” but herefrained.
“Never heard of that make,” said the more reticent boy.
“What?” Jimmy was surprised, but politely so. “One of the best, if not_the_ best. Ever see Williams play?”
“I have,” assented the first speaker, “but I didn’t notice what sort ofa racket he used.”
“You have a look the next time,” advised Jimmy, wondering just whatracket Williams did wield. “How do you like the feel of that? Corkingbalance, eh? That handle gives a nice firm grip, too. I’d like to ownthat myself.” This was no more than the truth, although the desire ofpossession was but a minute old.
“What did you say the price was?”
“Price? Oh, six-twenty-five. That’s a special price, too. You see, wehave the agency for the P. and F. goods here and we’re selling verylow to introduce them. That racket would sell for seven dollars in NewYork, I suppose.”
The boy nodded agreement. “Yes, I dare say it would.” He turned to hiscompanion. “I like it better than Carty’s,” he said, “don’t you?”
The second youth took the implement and subjected it to a minute andsustained inspection. Finally he balanced it across a finger. Thenhe stepped back and swung it mightily through the air, smashing animaginary ball through the doorway. Then he handed it back, and Jimmyheard plainly the sigh that accompanied the action. The boy noddedsoberly but convincingly. “It’s a corker,” he declared.
The intending purchaser of a racket glowed. It is always satisfyingto have one’s judgment upheld. He swung the racket himself slowlyand looked admiringly at it. At last he laid it on the counter, andJimmy’s heart fell. “I like it all right,” said the youth, “but that’smore than I want--more than I meant to pay for one.”
“That so? Well, you can’t get much of a racket these days for less thansix dollars,” replied Jimmy. “You fellows know what the fancy onesfetch; eight, nine--more if you want to pay it.” Jimmy fondled thetightly-stretched strings admiringly. “That racket would last threehard seasons, I’ll bet, without restringing. You don’t see finer gutthan that very often. I like the way it’s reënforced there, too, don’tyou? That small gut strengthens the racket without making it dead.”
The two boys nodded in unison and in silence. Two pairs of eyes werefollowing Jimmy’s pointing finger absorbedly. At last: “I can lendyou a dollar,” said the reticent youth in low tones. The other turnedeagerly, then shook his head.
“I oughtn’t to pay more than five,” he said virtuously but sadly.Jimmy drew a breath of relief. He was, he knew, about to make a sale,his first sale! He drew a caressing hand along the handle, from theblack-and-gold diamond trade-mark and the word “Runner-Up” to the softbrown leather band at the end. The tempted one followed the gesture,thrilling to it. Jimmy looked up and spoke at the psychological moment.
“Are you high school fellows?” he asked.
“No.”
“Because, if you were, I could give you the regular high schooldiscount of five per cent. That would make it cost you--let mesee--yes, five-ninety-four.”
“We’re Mount Millard fellows,” said one of the boys.
Jimmy pricked up his ears at that. “Mount Millard! Is that so? Whatsort of a football team have you got over there this year?”
“Pretty good, I guess. Not so good as last year’s, maybe, but--”
“Hope not!” laughed Jimmy. “You beat us badly last year. How do youfellows happen to be so far from home?” Mount Millard was at Warren,and Warren was some eighteen miles from Alton.
“We came over to go to the dentist’s,” the boy explained. “There isn’ta decent one in Warren.”
“Nor anything else,” mourned his companion.
“Except the school,” said Jimmy smilingly.
“Sure, the school’s all right, but there aren’t any decent storesthere. It’s a hole that way.”
“Where do your crowd buy your athletic supplies, then?”
“Oh, one of the druggists keeps a few things. Generally he sends awayfor them.”
“How long did it take you to get over here?” Jimmy asked.
“About twenty-five minutes, I guess. We came in an automobile with aman who lives there. It takes about forty minutes by the trolley.”
“Uh-huh,” responded Jimmy thoughtfully. “Don’t see why you fellowscan’t do your shopping over here.”
“Well, it isn’t worth while, I guess. We manage to get most everythingwe want, one way or another.”
“Rackets like this one?” asked Jimmy, smiling.
The boy shook his head, smiling, too.
“Tell you what I’ll do,” announced Jimmy. “We give a ten per centdiscount to Alton fellows and I don’t see why we shouldn’t give thesame to Mount Millard. You may have that racket for five dollars andsixty-two cents. All I ask is that you tell fellows where you boughtit and that if they’ll take the trouble to come over here--or sendover, if they like--we’ll treat them white and give them ten per centdiscount from the regular price. What do you say?”
The boy hesitated, but the space of that hesitation was so brief as tobe almost negligible. “I’ll take it!” he said crisply.
When they were gone, hurrying off to their appointment at the nearbydentist’s, Jimmy smiled proudly as he took out a pen and began tofigure on a piece of wrapping paper. “‘b.j.t.,’” he murmured. “That’s6, 5, 0. I was only a quarter of a dollar out of the way. All right.Now, ten per cent off that leaves--let’s see--yes, five-eighty-five.”He counted the money on the counter: a five dollar bill and sixty-twocents in change. Then he figured once more. “I owe twenty-three cents,”he muttered, and found the amount in his pocket and added it to thesum on the counter. Then he reached beneath for the cigar box andswept the proceeds into it, with an air of intense satisfaction not atall marred by the fact that the sale of the tennis racket, because hehad translated the price-tag’s inscription erroneously, had cost himpersonally twenty-three cents!
That transaction satisfactorily completed, Jimmy went, whistling, backto the doorway to again play the rôle of the watchful spider. The tunehe whistled evidently did not please Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer who hadleft his cage and was listlessly arranging a bunch of asparagus fernin the wax-papered bottom of a long card-board box. As he worked heshot impatient, even indignant glances at the unconcerned Jimmy, who,not realizing the pain he was inflicting on the florist’s nerves, wentheedlessly and blithely on. It is just possible that, even had herealized the discomfort his melody was causing, he would have continuedit, for Mr. Pulsifer didn’t stand very high with Jimmy.
Others came and looked into the window, some interestedly, somecarelessly, and all ultimately passed by. The better part of an hourpassed. The sunlight became very warm, and Jimmy looked longinglyacross the street toward the screen door of the Blue Front Pharmacyfrom behind which came the hiss of carbonated water. Jimmy wanted acooling drink very much. But duty held him sternly at his post. If,he warned himself, he were to cross the street even for a scant threeminutes some one might enter the store in his brief absence and,finding none to wait on him, go away again. Besides that--and Jimmyglanced at his watch--Rus Emerson had promised to run over at ten tosee how he was getting on, and it certainly wouldn’t do to be missingwhen Rus arrived! Tiring of watching the street, Jimmy went back behindthe counter. There was no chair there, which he thought showed a sadwant of interest, on the part of his employers, in his comfort, but hefound that it was possible to squeeze a scant portion of his anatomyagainst the boxes on the lowest shelf and maintain his position thereby bracing his feet against the edge of the counter. He had just gothimself satisfactorily settled when the doorway was darkened and ananxious voice hailed him above the tramp of hurrying footsteps.
“Where’s the tennis racket?” called Russell anxiously.
Jimmy dropped his feet and came upright very promptly. “Tennis racket?”he repeated. “_The_ tennis racket? If you mean--”
“I mean the one in the window,” interrupted Russell excitedly. “It’sgone!”
“Oh, that!” replied Jimmy casually. He brushed an invisible speck froma sleeve and smiled boredly. “We sold that.”