Mr Eccles leaned across his desk, his hard little eyes boring into George. “What?” he shouted. “Selling something? Where’s your permit?”
George took an involuntary step back. “Now, please don’t misunderstand me, Mr Eccles,” he said, trying to control his rising colour. “We’re not selling anything. It’s just that we thought you’d be interested to hear that the new edition of the Child’s SelfEducator is—er—ready. It’s a magnificent job. Two hundred additional coloured plates, and all the maps have been revised. There’s more than two hundred thousand additional words, bringing this wonderful work of reference right up to date.”
“Hamm,” Mr Eccles grunted. “You people are not supposed to be on the school premises, you know. I haven’t the time nor the inclination to talk to salesmen. All right, thank you for calling. Good afternoon,” and he picked up his pen and began to write.
Had George been alone, he would have slunk out of the room, but the cold, still, hateful figure of Brant made retreat impossible.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr Eccles,” George said, his face now the colour of a beetroot, “there’s just one other point I would like to raise with you. You know the CSE, of course. You’ll agree with me, I’m sure, that it is a most useful set of books and its reputation in the world of letters is second to none. Any child possessing this magnificent work of reference has an obvious advantage over the unfortunate child who is without it. The task of the teacher is considerably lightened if a child can turn to the CSE and find for itself the answer to those awkward questions that a child is always asking his teacher.”
Mr Eccles laid down his pen and pushed hack his chair. His movements were deliberate and ominous.
“If I thought you were trying to sell something on these premises,” he said with deadly calm, “I would give you in charge.”
George shuffled his feet. “I assure you, Mr Eccles,” he stammered, “I—I have no intention of selling anything, no intention at all. It’s just that I hoped for your co-operation. Unless teachers are prepared to assist us, we are unable to let parents know how invaluable the CSE—and who would deny it?—would be in the home.”
Mr Eccles rose to his feet. To George, he seemed to grow n stature, and broaden like a rubber doll that is being inflated. “You’re canvassing,” Mr Eccles said in an awful voice, “I thought as much. What is the name of your firm?”
George had visions of a complaint being lodged by the LCC. Although the World-Wide Publishing Company was fully aware of the methods used by their salesmen, officially these methods were not recognized. They were all right, so long as there were no complaints. If there were complaints, then the salesmen were sacked.