“So you're here, Peter,” remarked he, as he caught sight of our hero.
“Paul,” corrected the owner of that name.
“Well, well, Peter or Paul, don't make much difference. Both were apostles, if I remember right. All ready for work, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” said Paul, neither very briskly nor cheerfully.
“Well,” said Mr. Smith, after a pause, “I guess I'll put you into the calico department. Williams, you may take him under your wing. And now Peter,—all the same, Paul,—I've got a word or two to say to you, as I always do to every boy who comes into my store. Don't forget what you're here for? It's to sell goods. Take care to sell something to every man, woman, and child, that comes in your way. That's the way to do business. Follow it up, and you'll be a rich man some day.”
“But suppose they don't want anything?” said Paul.
“Make 'em want something,” returned Smith, “Don't let 'em off without buying. That's my motto. However, you'll learn.”
Smith bustled off, and began in his nervous way to exercise a general supervision over all that was going on in the store. He seemed to be all eyes. While apparently entirely occupied in waiting upon a customer, he took notice of all the customers in the store, and could tell what they bought, and how much they paid.
Paul listened attentively to the clerk under whom he was placed for instruction.
“What's the price of this calico?” inquired a common-looking woman.