§ 3
The Merryton Realty Company had failed, and Truax & Fein were offered the small development property of Crosshampton Hill Gardens at so convenient a price that they could not refuse it, though they were already “carrying” as many properties as they could easily handle. In a characteristic monologue Mr. Truax asked a select audience, consisting of himself, his inkwell, and Una, what he was to do.
“Shall I try to exploit it and close it out quick? I’ve got half a mind to go back to the old tent-and-brass-band method and auction it off. The salesmen have all they can get away with. I haven’t even a good, reliable resident salesman I could trust to handle it on the grounds.”
“Let me try it!” said Una. “Give me a month’s trial as salesman on the ground, and see what I can do. Just run some double-leaded classified ads. and forget it. You can trust me; you know you can. Why, I’ll write my own ads., even: ‘View of Long Island Sound, and beautiful rolling hills. Near to family yacht club, with swimming and sailing.’ I know I could manage it.”
Mr. Truax pretended not to hear, but she rose, leaned over his desk, stared urgently at him, till he weakly promised: “Well, I’ll talk it over with Mr. Fein. But you know it wouldn’t be worth a bit more salary than you’re getting now. And what would I do for a secretary?”
“I don’t worry about salary. Think of being out on Long Island, now that spring is coming! And I’ll find a successor and train her.”
“Well—” said Mr. Truax, while Una took her pencil and awaited dictation with a heart so blithe that she could scarcely remember the symbols for “Yours of sixteenth instant received.”