Three days after Purkes offered his enamelware I had a window full of—what do you think?—tea; in half-pound packets! And it was an advertised line, Milton's, which was a line that Purkes had sold for a long time! That tea usually sold for fifty cents a pound. I put a sign in the window saying: "Why pay fifty cents a pound for Milton's tea, when you can buy it here for thirty-eight cents a pound, nineteen cents the half pound."
That was exactly what it cost us. Martin had got hold of it for us from a friend of his in Providence, who was a wholesale grocer.
You really would have laughed to see Purkes come flying into our store about fifteen minutes after our window trim was complete. He reminded me of a wet hen who had had her tail feathers pulled out. He couldn't speak, he just sputtered and pointed to the window. After a minute I caught the words, "Scoundrel!" and "robber!" and "unjust!" and "report to the Merchants' Association!"
I turned around and caught sight of Charlie grinning his head off. He passed the high sign to me, which I understood to mean "Let him talk." So I beckoned to Charlie to come over.
"This is the man who thought up that idea," I said to Purkes. "It's a good one, don't you think?"
Both Charlie and I saw that Purkes was going to explode again, so Charlie said:
"Now listen, Mr. Purkes. Do you think it is any worse for us to sell tea than for you to sell enamelware?"
"But that's just a job line I bought! Just the little I sell could not hurt you,"—then he added maliciously, "unless, of course, you get fancy prices for your goods."
I felt like throwing him out of the store; but Charlie ignored his last remark and said, "That idea of yours selling enamelware was so excellent that I thought we ought to copy it. You sell hardware—we sell groceries."
"You are—how long are you going to continue selling tea?"