Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned.
“I don't see much difference,” he said. “The old town looks about the same to me.”
The captain smilingly shook his head.
“'Tain't the town,” he observed. “It's this store. Nate, you're a wonder, that's what you are, a wonder.”
For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which Daniel Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of that very store, the store itself had changed materially. Mr. Bangs had wrought the change and it was distinctly a change for the better. The stock, and there was a surprising deal of it, was new and attractively displayed. The contents of the showcases were varied and up-to-date. Neatly lettered placards calling attention to special bargains hung in places where they were most likely to be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and garnished look to the establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it after her return, it looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In other words, the Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and prosperous, as if it was making money—which it was.
It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the dullest season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good and, thanks to Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop fishermen, the quahaug rakers, and the members of the life-saving crews were once more buying their outfits at the Metropolitan Store instead of patronizing Mr. J. Cohen and The Emporium. Mr. Bangs was already selecting his summer stock; and his plans for the disposal of that stock were definite and business-like.
“If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott,” he had explained, “I'm going to try putting on a horse and wagon this summer. There's no reason why we shouldn't get the cottage trade down at the Neck, and all along shore. Jim Bartlett, Sam's older brother, would like the job driving that wagon. He's smart as a whip, Jim is, and he's willing to work on commission. Let him start out twice a week with a load of hats and oilskins and belts and children's shovels and pails—all the sort of stuff the boarders and cottage folks buy and that they'd buy more of if it was brought right to their doors—and he'll catch a heap of trade that goes to Bayport or Wellmouth or The Emporium now. What he don't carry he can take orders for and deliver next trip. If you don't say no, Cap'n Dott, I'm going to try it. And I'll bet a month's wages it's a go.”
Captain Dan had not said no. On the contrary he expressed enthusiastic approval of his manager's plans and enterprise. Also, he had been thinking of some adequate reward, some means of proving his gratitude real.
“You're a wonder, Nate,” repeated Daniel. “I don't know how to get even with you, but I've got an idea. I've talked it over with Serena already and she's for it. I want to ask Gertie's opinion and if she says yes, and she will, I'm almost sartin, I'll tell you what it is.”
“All right, Cap'n. Don't you worry yourself trying to 'get even,' as you call it, with me. I've enjoyed being in charge here. I always said there was money in a store in Trumet, if it was run as it should be. One year more and I can show you a few things, I'll bet.”