I decided that the next step was to arrange a definite system of keeping track of expenses. I would divide the expenses into different classes and see that no single class of expense exceeded a certain limit which I would set for it.
Next, I would build up a logical advertising campaign. Talking with Fellows had converted me to the value of advertising. I had asked him if there was ever a time when a man could afford to stop advertising. He replied, "Yep, a man can afford to stop advertising when he can afford to be forgotten!"
Then I would find some way of getting my help—I had five people at the time—to work better for me than they seemed to have been doing. They seemed to look upon me as a joke. I didn't know that I could blame them, for I certainly felt like several kinds of joke myself.
The accountant on looking over my expenses had thought that my salary roll was too high. I told him that in that case I would cut salaries all round. His reply was, "I wouldna do that if I were ye. A more deesirable plan would be to see if ye canna adjust your affairs to give them more money"—I gasped at this—"and reduce the number o' your employees."
I hope I never have to go through another two weeks like the first two after I bought the store. I was only a boy when Aunt Emma died and left me the money, but I think I grew up quickly—at least Betty said so. She thought it did me good.
When she told me that, I cried with amazement:
"Doing me good?—to lose all that money in two weeks!"
"Yes, indeed," she declared, "you're just beginning to realize that you've a lot to learn, and you're much nicer to be with than you were before." She gave a funny little smile, as she continued, "You know, boy, you were awfully conceited—you're awfully conceited now; but I'm glad to notice that you're not so dead sure of everything as you used to be!"
"Betty!" said I . . . But what happened then is nobody's business but mine—and Betty's.