It was Applerod who, with keen appreciation, hastened to advise him upon this point.
“Said ‘yes’ twice and ‘no’ twelve times. Then, at the very last minute, when we thought that he was through, he usually landed on a proposition that hadn’t been put up to him at all, and put it clear out of the business.”
“Looks like good finessing to me,” said Bobby complacently. “I think I shall play it that way.”
“It wouldn’t do, sir,” Mr. Johnson replied in a tone of keen pain. “You must understand that when your father started this business it was originally a little fourteen-foot-front place, one story high. He got down here at six o’clock every morning and swept out. As he got along a little further he found that he could trust somebody else with that job—but he always knew how to sweep. It took him a lifetime to simmer down his business to just ‘yes’ and ‘no.’”
“I see,” mused Bobby; “and I’m expected to take that man’s place! How would you go about it?”
“I would suggest, without meaning any impertinence whatever, sir,” insinuated Mr. Johnson, “that if you were to start clerking——”
“Or sweeping out at six o’clock in the morning?” calmly interrupted Bobby. “I don’t like to stay up so late. No, Johnson, about the only thing I’m going to do to show my respect for the traditions of the house is to leave this desk just as it is, and hang an oil portrait of my father over it. And, by the way, isn’t there some little side room where I can have my office? I’m going into this thing very earnestly.”
Mr. Johnson and Mr. Applerod exchanged glances.
“The door just to the right there,” said Mr. Johnson, “leads to a room which is at present filled with old files of the credit department. No doubt those could be moved somewhere else.”
Bobby walked into that room and gaged its possibilities. It was a little small, to be sure, but it would do for the present.