“I thought you were playing football with the second, though,” said Jimmy.
“I had to give it up,” replied Russell. “Some one has to be here afternoons, and three mornings a week I can’t get around at all and Stick has to do it all.”
“Too bad, though,” Jimmy said. “About football, I mean. Still, maybe they don’t need you much. The scrubs have been pushing us around pretty fiercely so far.” Jimmy looked at his watch, whistled and jumped to the floor. “I must be getting back. I’ll give this ball a try-out this morning, Emerson, and let you know how I like it. And I’ll see that fellows know about your prices, too! Good luck!”
So Jimmy went his way briskly, a full twenty minutes late, and Russell, folding up the stockings that the customer had admired, smiled contentedly. He had at last succeeded in selling a “P. & F.” football, after several attempts, and, fortunately, to a fellow who, for some unknown reason, was anxious to boost the store. Russell decided to order four more balls that very day, since, in spite of the brave array of boxes on the shelf which looked as if they might contain footballs, the only other ball in stock reposed in the window!
When, presently, Stick Patterson arrived Russell announced to him the sale with much satisfaction and delegated to him the writing and mailing of the order to New York. Stick was equally pleased, but he voiced doubts as to the order. “They cost a lot of money, Rus,” he said. “Better get two instead of four, don’t you think? We can order two more later if those sell.”
“All right,” Russell agreed. Sometimes Stick’s conservatism was a trifle dampening, but he realized that it wasn’t a bad idea to have such a check on his enthusiasm. Without it his optimism might some day lead him to an error of judgment. “I’ll bet we’ll sell them, though, Stick. Austen’s sort of a leader in his crowd, and if he likes that ball he will say so, and from what he said I know he wants to like it, and I’m sure he will.”
“I fancy the ball’s all right,” returned Stick cautiously, “but not many fellows buy them. Did he want tick?”
“No, he didn’t say anything about having it charged. I was mighty glad, too, for I’d have hated to have lost a customer like him.”
“Wish the fellows that come around when I’m here were like that,” retorted Stick. “They always want tick and get sore when I tell them we don’t give credit. Any one else in, Rus?”