CHAPTER XXII.
Tom was too busy just then to be thinking of promotion, or of woes by the way; the busy season was coming on, and he had just been advanced to the wholesale room; quite a step, and he couldn’t help liking it, though Hal was in the same department. Hal was a good fellow enough when he didn’t happen to feel like saying anything disagreeable, and when he did—pshaw! would Tom never get over being a goose?
Hal was busy in his turn; a customer had just come in whom the junior partner had turned over to him with the whisper that it was especially important he should be pleased, and Hal had been sharpening his business wits to capture him. But it seemed for some time as if he would not be caught; he knew precisely what he wanted and would not be taken in any other net. But if he knew what he wanted it would only be the more of a failure if Fenimore & Co. couldn’t suit him, and Hal redoubled his energies, and called every resource into requisition.
At last it seemed as if triumph were at hand. The customer caught sight of a lot of goods and stopped suddenly before them.
“There!” he exclaimed, “there’s something I should like, if they’re what they seem to be;” and he stooped to examine them.
Hal caught a look from the junior partner which said, “Don’t have any difficulty there; push your advantage,” and he waited anxiously for what should come next.
The inspection was concluded, and the goods pronounced very handsome.
“Now what do you ask for those?”
At another look from the partner, Hal named the price, a trifle lower than the mark.
“That’s reasonable,” said the customer. “I think I’ll take the whole lot;” and Hal’s triumph rose to high-water mark as the junior smiled across to him. A good piece of work for so early in the morning, for this was a man who bought heavily and paid well, but had never brought his patronage to Fenimore & Co. before.
“But wait a moment,” he said, “are these all you have?”
“All we have,” said Hal, “and we had the only invoice. We sold a smaller lot to Pollard & Leighton, and I assure you no one else will have them.”
“Ah! Pollard & Leighton have them? Then I do not care to take them, and as I see nothing else that I require, I will bid you good morning,” and with a bow he left the store.
The junior partner hardly waited for him to be out of hearing.
“And a nice piece of work you’ve made of it for a fellow almost twenty-one, and coming into the firm before long! He didn’t ask you if any of the goods had been sold, and you needn’t have gone out of your way to tell him; but even if you must needs do that, it was quite another thing to give names. We’ve lost that man now, I suppose.”
Hal walked into the next room without a word, more annoyed and chagrined than at anything that had happened since he had been in the store. He had made a great mistake and there was no getting over it, and he had sufficient pride in Fenimore & Co. to feel sorry enough at the best; but the junior being so disturbed about it made the matter worse. However there was no use fretting, and perhaps he should find something in the next room to help him forget it.
Yes there was something sure enough. Tom had got hold of an equally desirable customer, and was making a great swing with him. His spirits were rising tremendously, and by the time he had finished his sale he had forgotten that anything disagreeable had ever happened in the course of his life.
“Who was that?” asked Hal.
“A man from Illinois,” said Tom, “and a pretty good thing we’ve made of it too.”
“Let me see the bill,” said Hal, and he ran his eye over it.
“Look here,” he exclaimed, putting his finger on a point in the list where Tom’s pride was particularly centred, “you didn’t sell him those goods at the price marked here, did you?”
“Of course I did; why not?”
“Why not?” asked Hal, with the sting of the old sneer made sharper than ever by the freshness of his own annoyance, “no reason in the world that I know of, except that it is five cents a yard less than we paid for them.”
Tom stood aghast, and his tongue seem fast to the roof of his mouth. His first week in the salesroom, and a blunder like that! Should he be sent down again in disgrace, or only left to feel as if he ought to be?
Hal’s own trouble went clear out of sight, and he laughed a most exasperating laugh that Tom was only too familiar with.
“Better take that bill down to the senior,” he said. “Illinois is a great state; perhaps he’d like to send you out there to establish a branch.”
Tom’s memory suddenly ran back, he didn’t stop to ask how, to a certain night, years ago, when he sat over his game of chess under Hal’s gaslight, and the same miserable feeling that had sent him home so fast that evening hugged him tight as he went down to the counting-room to have things set right if there was any way to do it. He remembered in what a hurry he had tucked himself away under his blankets that night; but there was no such skulking to be done now; he had got to face things the best way he could.
And he could face almost anything if people only wouldn’t say something disagreeable about it! He supposed it was ridiculous, but it was no use; he would rather any one would knock him down any day. Well, he must try to keep out of Hal’s way for a few days; that was all that could be done this time.
But that was of no use either. Hal stood square in the doorway, with two or three clerks at his side, the next morning, and the very first salute was, “How’s Illinois this morning? Suppose we give three cheers for the Hoosier state?”
For one moment Tom felt as if he could have knocked somebody down; but that wasn’t like Tom, and was gone again as quickly as it came, only the old forlornness that had come to be almost an everyday thing since he came into the store, stuck by.
The last straw breaks the camel’s back, and this time Tom found himself getting desperate. He pushed past Hal, and made his way to his post, but he was thankful enough that no important business came to him that day; he should have made worse work of it than yesterday, for his only thought was how to get out of it altogether, a thousand miles away if he could, he didn’t care where or what became of him afterwards, if only he need never see Hal again! And he would get away! Hal was to be junior partner himself soon, and things would be worse than ever, and even if the day should ever come when the firm kept their promise to Mr. Willoughby, Hal would be above him still; and for ever, so far as he could see. He would rather earn his living with a pick-axe, if he could only be left to feel like a man while he carried it on his shoulder.
“Don’t care what becomes of you, Tom Haggarty! All very well, but what is going to become of the rest waiting for you at home?” whispered something in his ear.
Ah, there it was, and it always came round to that again, no matter what desperate resolves he took up for a moment.
Yes, he supposed he must stick where he was and take what came, though he believed he’d rather be a galley-slave, provided nobody ever spoke to him; it must be he wasn’t much of a man, after all, or nobody would dare taunt him quite as often as Hal!
There was his voice at this moment!
“Where’s the hoosier general betaken himself? I want to inquire how he’s brought out profit and loss this morning;” and Tom heard a laugh from the younger clerks that seemed the echo of Hal’s own.