Stigler opened up his new store on schedule time, and I had to admit that he had a splendid window display. He had hired a professional window trimmer from a Providence department store to come up and trim the windows for him, and he had done a swell job. He had the window full of all kinds of kitchen goods, everything ten cents. He even had a line of tin buckets, which I knew cost him more than that.
I was looking the place over from my own store—you know it was right next door to me,—I was out on the doorstep, looking at his window, when I saw Stigler walking toward the door. My first impulse was to turn away, but I realized that, if I did, he would think I was spying on him, so I held my ground.
"Well, Neighbor," he said with his usual sneer, when he came outside, "havin' a look at what a real store looks like for a change?"
Now, ordinarily my impulse would have been to get mad, but that time for some reason or other I didn't. Instead, I said calmly:
"I was just thinking, Friend Stigler, what a remarkable philanthropist you are."
"Good value, eh?" he returned, sneeringly.
"Excellent," I replied; "in fact, I'm thinking of hiring a lot of women to go in and buy some of your things for ten cents and put 'em in my store to sell over for a quarter."
I saw a shrewd expression pass over his face.
"Huh, if you'd only buy right, you could sell right yourself."
"Exactly what I think," I laughed. "Say, Stigler, you make me smile. Do you think you'll be able to get away with that kind of stuff for long? They'll come and buy your under-cost goods, but they won't buy the rest."