[CHAPTER X]
JIMMY CONSPIRES
True to his word, Jimmy arrived at Number 27 Upton shortly after supper. Stick, to whom Russell had imparted the proposed solution of the problem, was not present. Stick had succinctly declared that Russell was crazy and that he refused to listen to any more of his ravings. He had not, however, refused to keep store in the afternoon in return for having his mornings free, and that was the principal thing.
Jimmy declared that he had feared Russell might change his mind about employing him and so leave him jobless in the face of a long and cruel winter, and consequently he had hurried right up so soon as he had satisfied the inner man. He had brought his schedule and when Russell had produced his they leaned over the two cards and, as Jimmy phrased it, doped out a course of action. On the whole, Russell’s hours and Jimmy’s seldom interfered, and there were but two mornings when for more than sixty minutes the store would have to be left to Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer’s care.
“Corking!” declared Jimmy. “I’ll go down Monday morning with you and you can show me where things are and all that. Something tells me, Emerson, that I was born to be a merchant, and Heaven help any poor guy that steps his foot inside that store while I’m there. He will either have to buy something or fight me!”
“Better try peaceful means first,” suggested Russell, smiling.
“Oh, yes, I shan’t insist on trouble. By the way, are there any punching-bags in stock? It might be well for me to keep in trim. Let’s see, how do you do it?” Jimmy rubbed his hands and bowed to Russell. “Good morning, sir. Nice weather we’re having, are they not? Tennis balls? Certainly. Right this way, please, to the tennis department. Here you are, sir, the finest ball on the market. Used exclusively by the Prince of Wales, Lloyd George and all the best players. Covered with the most expensive Peruvian broadcloth. Every ball filled with two thousand atmospheres of balloon gas, making it the lightest and liveliest ball on the market. As I might say, sir, it’s bound to bound. We are making a special price on them this year, eighty cents apiece or five dollars a half-dozen. If you take six dozen we include a high-grade racket. With a gross we give you, absolutely without charge, a receipt for making indelible ink. Half a dozen? Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Shall I wrap them up or will you take them with you?”
“Aren’t you mixed on your prices a little?” laughed Russell.
“Possibly.” Jimmy waved carelessly. “I never was good at arithmetic. By the way, you haven’t a cash register, have you? No? That’s good. I’d never be a success as a salesman where there was one of those things to keep tabs on me!”