Just as I got in, old Peter Bender, the carpenter, came in the store. He came very seldom, for, since I had stopped his credit, he could only come when he was able to pay cash. Now, before I tell you what happened, I must remind you of what had taken place some few months before when I pulled off my stunt of buying mail-order catalogs. Well, for a time it had looked as if the stunt had done good to every merchant in the town; but it wasn't very long before mail-order catalogs were in town again as thick as ever.
I had had an occasional "ad" in our local paper saying, "Buy it in town if the price is right, but don't pay more than you can buy it for elsewhere. If it is anything in hardware, I will guarantee to supply it at the same price as the mail-order houses, and you can see what you are getting before you buy it."
I don't think the "ad" had done us a great deal of good generally, but there were a few people, who used to buy from the mail-order houses, who had begun to buy from me.
Now, I'll tell you what happened between Peter and Larsen.
"I want an ax like this 'ere one," Peter said, displaying the picture of an ax in a mail-order catalog which he had with him. "How much is it?"
"Seventy-five cents," said Larsen.
"A-ha!" snarled Peter, "I'll give yer sixty-three cents for it. Yer say yer can sell it as cheap as a mail-order house—and that's their price!" He put his finger on the catalog to verify his statement.
"All right," said Larsen. Whereupon Bender belligerently planted sixty-three cents on the counter.
"Hold hard," continued Larsen. "Gimme three cents for the money order, a cent for yer letter paper, and two cents for the stamp. That's another six cents. That's fair, you know—you must pay us what it would have cost yer."
Peter looked at me. "Guess you're right," he said, and threw the other six cents on the counter.