“P-prob’bly,” says Mark, “it would be b-better to see Old Mose out at his house of an evenin’. Maybe he’d be more reasonable.”
“We’ll see him of an evenin’, all right, and we’ll see him of a mornin’,” says one of the young women that were after votes for Pilkins. “And we hain’t after his votes for ourselves, neither,” she says with a sarcastic look at Chet and Chancy.
“Ladies,” says Mark, breaking right in on them, “have you seen the new p-patent hooks and eyes we just got in from New York? Finest thing of the kind ever was in Wicksville. Lemme sh-show you how they work.”
He set in and described those hooks and eyes and told what they would do, and showed how they did it. “And,” says he, “we give votes with th-these just like with anythin’ else. How many cards, Mis’ Peterson?”
“Gimme a quarter’s worth,” says she. “Sich things always come in handy.”
Mrs. Bloom, she bought a quarter’s worth, and each of those young women bought a card for a dime. That was eighty cents sold that wouldn’t have been sold but for Mark taking advantage of things. But he was the sort that took advantage. Maybe there wouldn’t be much in it every time, but add up a dozen or so times and it was quite a bit. He was business from front to back.
“Mark,” says I, when the folks were all gone, “I’m beginnin’ to b’lieve maybe we’ll pull through and pay off Skip’s mortgage.”
“Hum!” says Mark. “You be, eh? Remember we got to raise five hundred d-dollars and pay expenses and keep sendin’ money to your f-folks. ’Tain’t so easy as it looks. Comes perty clost to bein’ impossible, I’d say.”
“Not gittin’ discouraged?” I says, frightened-like.
“No,” says he, “but I h-hain’t gittin’ over-confident, neither. Maybe we’ll pull through if somethin’ don’t hit us an extra wallop. But we’ll keep a-tryin’.”