"There, there, sit down."
I sat down. My throat felt parched. Mother's remarks made me think all kinds of dreadful things had happened to my Betty. She stood behind my chair and put her arms on my shoulders and said: "Well, my poor boy, your time of ease will soon be over. Betty will be home next Wednesday." I felt as if a ton of bricks had been taken off my chest, and at once forgave Mother for her joke.
I had just bought three electric vacuum cleaners, and Larsen thought I was crazy.
"Retail at thirty-five dollars!" he said.
"Cost me twenty-two," I retaliated.
"H'm!"
"Besides," I continued, "remember that we are going to dominate the electrical supply field."
"And toilet articles—don't forget them," Larsen laughed.
That was his hobby; and it was a hobby that meant dollars and cents to me, for that business was growing steadily all the time.
We had even added toilet soap, because we had been asked for it several times. People came in to leave their safety razors to be sharpened and then bought a stick of shaving soap, and also asked if we had any toilet soap. So, right or wrong, we had gone into it. Martin had the right idea. "If you can make profit out of it it's all right."