CHAPTER XV
MR. CROCKER CALLS
Russell didn’t see the Loring game, although there was no second teampractice that afternoon to prevent. Instead he took Stick’s place inthe store, allowing that youth to put in an afternoon at tennis, theonly kind of physical exertion he approved of. Russell was glad thathe had done this long before closing time arrived, for he spent a verybusy time at the Sign of the Football. There was one heart-stirringquarter of an hour when, by actual count, seven customers lined thecounter! Russell surreptitiously counted the throng a second time,incredulously certain that he had overestimated. Even femininityinvaded the store when two high school girls came in search ofsweaters. Russell, always shy in the presence of the opposite sex,was all thumbs when it came to displaying his wares and, for thefirst time, wished that he had not relieved Stick. Stick wouldn’tbe disturbed in the least by the whole female population of Alton!Nothing, pursued Russell in his thoughts, as he clumsily brought a pileof boxes crashing down on his head, ever did disturb Stick much exceptan attack on his pocketbook.
The two young ladies were extremely self-possessed and viewed Russell’sembarrassment with a sort of kindly contempt. The boy’s first hopefulannouncement that they carried no girls’ sweaters failed of the effecthe desired. They did not, they explained calmly, want girls’ sweaters,but boys’ sweaters. After that there was nothing for it but to displaywares, falteringly explain why the garments were priced half a dollarhigher than similar garments purchased by the fair customers in NewHaven two years before and resist a horrible temptation to wipe theperspiration from his brow. Russell heaped the counter high withboxes--some of them, of course, empty--and got very much mixed in thematter of sizes and prices. In the end, when the shoppers severelydeclared that they would take two of the sweaters but couldn’t thinkof paying the price set for them, Russell weakly but, oh, so gladlyknocked off a quarter of a dollar, almost frantically wrapped theparcels up, overlooked a discrepancy of a nickel in one payment, and,had not courtesy forbade, would have joyously pushed them out the door.
When they were at last gone, he wiped his forehead, sighed deeply withheartfelt relief and wondered if it would not be a good idea to hang acard in the window with some such inscription on it as “Gentlemen Only”or “No Females Need Apply”! After that he sold a pair of woolen hose toan Alton chap and two tennis balls to a tall bespectacled gentlemanwho, Russell suspected, was the “Painless Dentist” further down thestreet. The hour for closing was nearing and Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer,who had been leaning in a sort of trance over his books in the wirecage since four o’clock, moved and sighed loudly. Then followedbusiness of locking a drawer with much jangling of keys, the clangingof the cage door and the florist set his hat on his head, lookeddubiously at the single light in the further window--Mr. Pulsifer neverlighted his window--took three boxes from the glass-fronted case atthe back of the store and passed out with a dismal “good night.” Thosethree boxes, which, Russell concluded, Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer was goingto deliver in person, appeared to constitute the day’s business of theflorist’s establishment. Russell wondered whether it was possible thatthe dejected gentleman made money over his expenses. It didn’t seemthat he could, for the few orders that came to him surely did amountto more than thirty dollars a week. Russell’s thoughts were still onMr. Pulsifer when the doorway was darkened by a large, thickset man ina suit of black and a wide-brimmed felt hat of the same color. When hecame into the light from the window Russell recognized him.
“Good evening, Mr. Crocker,” he said politely.
Mr. Crocker replied affably and then looked curiously about him.“Your name’s Emerson, I take it,” he said finally. “Nice littleestablishment you’ve got here.”
Russell agreed, although he saw quite plainly that the visitor didn’tthink it a nice little establishment at all, that, on the contrary, hehad viewed it rather contemptuously.
“Thought,” continued the hardware merchant, “I’d stop in and have aword or two with you.”
“Very kind, I’m sure,” murmured Russell.
“Well, I’m an old hand at the selling game, Mr. Emerson, and I’velearned one or two things you haven’t--yet. You’re young and, I guessyou won’t mind my saying so, inexperienced.”
“Not in the least, sir.”
“Exactly,” pursued the other, interpreting the boy’s reply to suithimself. “Now I’m always glad to help young fellows like you who arejust starting out for themselves. I’ve done it many times. Us older menmustn’t forget that we owe a duty to youth and inexperience. That’swhy I dropped in, Mr. Emerson.” Mr. Crocker had thrust his hands intothe pockets of a pair of capacious trousers and was observing Russellsmilingly across the counter. “Now you and I are in the same line ofbusiness, partly. That is, you sell athletic supplies and so do I. Ofcourse, it’s a small part of my business, but I’m not hankering to loseit. Not,” added Mr. Crocker, quickly, “that there’s any danger of that.I’ve always welcomed competition, Mr. Emerson. There’s plenty of tradehere for you and me both if we handle it right.”
“I hope so,” affirmed Russell.
“Yes, but cutting prices isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Mr. Crockersmiled almost playfully. His was a leather-grained, deeply-furrowedcountenance, and that arch smile looked extremely out of place. “No,sir.” He shook his head gently but emphatically. “No, sir, my youngfriend, cutting prices is bad for us. You cut and I cut and what’sleft? Neither of us is making a profit. I’m not in business forpleasure, and neither are you, I take it. Now, the best thing for bothof us is to come to a sort of friendly agreement. As I said before,there’s trade enough for us both, and there’s no sense in throwing awayour profits. That’s sense, isn’t it?”
“Perfect sense, Mr. Crocker. But I haven’t been throwing away myprofits, so far as I know, sir.”
“You’ve been selling goods ten, fifteen, twenty per cent under theusual local prices,” replied Mr. Crocker firmly. “I manage to keep tabson what’s going on around me, my friend.”
“I’ve been selling goods at prices that bring me a fair profit, Mr.Crocker, a profit that I’m satisfied with. Of course, it costs me lessto do business than it costs you, sir, but that’s nothing for me toworry about.”
The hardware man looked searchingly at Russell and stiffened. “You’vebeen cutting prices to get my trade, young man,” he announced severely.“I’m here to tell you it’s got to stop. I came in here like a friend,but I’m going out an enemy if you persist in taking that tone with me.Don’t think I’ll let you get my business away from me, sir, because Iwon’t. It’s been tried before.” Mr. Crocker’s face hardened and hisvoice was grim. “Four years ago a fellow opened up right over there,where Whitson is now. He lasted eight months. Then the sheriff sold himout. There’s been others, too. You take my advice and think it over.Why”--Mr. Crocker’s gaze traveled disparagingly over the shelves andthe little show-case--“why, you haven’t enough stock here to run threeweeks if you were getting any business.”
“In that case, why worry, sir?” asked Russell.
“Oh, I’m not worrying! That’s up to you.” Mr. Crocker smiled again, butthe smile was more like a snarl. “You think it over. That’s my adviceto you. You think it over and then drop around to see me about Monday.There’s no reason why you and I shouldn’t come to an agreement onprices, Mr. Emerson. I’m willing to come down a little here and there.I’ll be fair. We can fix it so’s you’ll make a bigger profit thanyou’re making now--if you’re making any; which I doubt--and won’t loseany of your trade. If you don’t decide to be reasonable, why, you’dbetter look for another line of business!”
Mr. Crocker settled his hat more squarely on his head, nodded curtlyand went out. When he had gone Russell put out the lights and lockedthe door, all very thoughtfully. The thoughtfulness continued while hestrode quickly to State street and thence made his way to the Greenand to Upton Hall. In Number 27 he recounted briefly to Stick theconversation with Mr. Crocker. Stick was fairly
aghast.
“I knew something rotten would happen,” he groaned. “I knew the luckwas too good to hold. Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do.”
“That’s all I see,” agreed Russell as he hurriedly prepared for supper.
“And maybe,” went on Stick, a wee bit more hopefully, “he’s right, Rus.Maybe we’ll do just as well if we charge a little more for things. Isuppose it is rather cheeky for us to open up almost next door to theold codger and try to undersell him. In a way, it was fairly decent ofhim to give us a warning, wasn’t it?”
“Well, perhaps. But wasn’t it sort of a confession of weakness, Stick?”
“I don’t get you.”
“Why, if he really thinks he can put us out of business, why should hecome and offer us a part of the trade? Why not take it all?”
“I suppose he wanted to be fair,” answered Stick, doubtfully. Then hestarted and shot an anxious look at his companion. “Look here, Rus,” heexclaimed, “you’re--you’re not thinking of acting the fool!”
“Hope not. Depends on what you mean by acting the fool.”
“I mean you’re not going to try to buck him, are you?”
“I guess you could call it that,” answered Russell easily. “At least, Idon’t propose to let Crocker or any one else come and tell me--”
“But you can’t do that!” wailed Stick. “I’m as much interested in thatstore as you are--almost, and--and I won’t have it! We can’t affordto make an enemy of that fellow, Rus. He’ll do just as he told youand we’ll be broke in a month. There’s no use in being stubborn. Ofcourse, it isn’t pleasant to have him dictating to us, but he’s got thewhip-hand, now hasn’t he?”
“He may have, but I doubt it.” Russell gave a final pat to his tie andglanced at the little clock on his chiffonier. “Come on and let’s eat,Stick. We can talk about this later.”
Stick, however, chose to talk about it all the way to Lawrence andwould have talked about it during supper had Russell given him anopportunity. But Russell dived into general conversation and lefthis partner to silent and moody meditation. Stick was so thoroughlyalarmed that he ate almost nothing; and Stick’s appetite was normallysomething to be proud of. Afterwards the subject was returned to andthe two came nearer to a quarrel than they ever had before. Only thefact that Russell refused to get angry prevented it. Stick pleaded andbegged, argued and, at length, commanded, but Russell was not to bemoved.
“We agreed,” he said firmly, “that, as I had put more money into thisthan you had, I was to have the say in such matters as this. And I’vethought it over carefully, Stick, and I mean to go right on as we’vebeen going. Look here, now. Suppose we agreed to Crocker’s plan. Wemake an agreement with him not to sell goods below a certain price.He had all the trade before and he will have it all again. He saysthere is business enough for both of us. That listens well, but itisn’t true. Our only chance of making good lies in getting a wholelot of trade away from him if we can do it. And we’re doing it. Andthat’s what’s worrying him. He’s been selling things at a big profit,just as though the War hadn’t ever stopped, and there’s been no one tointerfere with it. Now we come along and put a fair price on our goodsand, of course, we’re getting customers away from him. Every day someone comes in and says, ‘Why, Crocker asks fifty cents more than that,’or sixty cents, or whatever it may be. He realizes that he’s either gotto scare us into an agreement on prices or lower his own prices; yes,and put better goods in stock, too! He hates to get less than he’s beengetting, and so he tries to frighten us. Well, he can’t do it. We don’tfrighten. As for driving us away, why, he will find that we’re hard todrive, Stick. He simply can’t do it.”
“That’s all well enough to say,” replied Stick desperately, “but how doyou know he can’t? Suppose he lowers his prices below ours? Then whathappens? Why, folks go to him, of course, and we sit and whistle. Andthen the rent comes due and a lot of bills come piling in and--bingo!good-by, Football!”
“Crocker will have to cut a lot below our prices, Stick, to get anytrade away from us. In the first place, we sell better stuff. You knowthat yourself. Then we treat customers a heap better, and we know ourstock. But, if we do begin to slip, we’ll cut prices, too. We can playthat game just as well as he can.”
“No, we can’t! He’s got all sorts of other goods to sell, and wehaven’t. He could run his sporting goods department at a loss formonths and not have to worry!”
“He would worry, just the same,” said Russell, smiling. “I knowCrocker’s sort. He’d worry if a clerk sold a five cent screwdriver atless than ten! But never mind that. Those P. and F. folks are afterbusiness, Stick. They’re making a hard drive to introduce their goodshere in the east, and, I think, they’re having difficulty. The otherfolks are fighting them for every inch. Now if I run over to New Yorkand tell them that Crocker is cutting prices on rival goods they’llstand back of us, I’ll bet. They’ll sell to us at prices that’ll let usmeet Crocker and go him one better.”
“That’s what you think,” sneered Stick. “You always think what you wantto think, Rus. That’s your trouble. You’re too blamed optimistic. I’drather hear the P. and F. folks say so before I banked on it!”
“They’ll say so when the time comes,” replied Russell cheerfully. “ButI don’t believe it will come.”
“I know you don’t,” said Stick disgustedly. “But I do! All right, goahead in your own stubborn, silly-ass way and ruin us! I’ve said all Ihave to say. Except this. I wish to goodness I’d never gone into thisfool thing, and if I could get out of it--”
“I wish to goodness I’d never gone into this fool thing”]
“We’re making pretty fair profits now, Stick,” returned Russellquietly, “and maybe, later, we can arrange it.”
“Huh!” snorted Stick. “Later! By that time there won’t be anything leftto arrange!”