"I don't know," admitted Jim, "but the principle is the same for chocolates, or power plants or—automobiles. That's what started me off—those Sayers automobiles. I never heard about that car until I saw one in the street. I don't know anything about them. But the one I saw looked so pretty that I talked with the man who owned it, and he was in love with the thing. So, because I never heard of it, and no one else seemed to have done so, it proves that there's something wrong with the Sayers selling organization. They haven't handled their capital right, because every dollar invested in advertising is a dollar in the value of the plant—in that intangible asset called 'goodwill,' without which neither a house nor a man can succeed."
"Young man," said his companion, "you are in the wrong line. You ought to be selling advertising space. I told you I was in power plants but—I'm in some other things as well. Did you ever solicit advertising contracts for any first class advertising firm?"
"I never did," admitted Jimmy, "But I have given some advice about advertising that has paid the purchasers. And I've pondered over sales organization for years. I tell you—it's a science! If ever I get a chance to test these theories of mine—I'll——" He paused as if ashamed of his serious enthusiasm, and as usual, derided them—"I'll probably fail!"
"Why deride yourself?" queried the man, regarding Jim with grave and interested eyes. "If sales organization is a hobby of yours, why not ride it? Evidently you've thought about it somewhat. What is wrong with the average sales organization? Where does it fail? What improvements can you suggest in prevalent methods? Have you thought of anything new and original to improve them? If so, I'd like to hear about it, because I'm one of those who are never too old to learn."
Jimmy accepted and launched into his argument with all the vim of an enthusiast discussing a subject to which he had given thought.
"Have you got one of your personal cards with you? Hope you don't think I'm impertinent," said the man, after Jimmy had run down.
Jimmy laughed and gave him the card and while he wondered what was coming next, his companion carefully slipped it into his pocketbook.
"If ever you decide to get out of chocolates," he said, thoughtfully, "you might call on me—or—let's see! Here!" He took another card from his pocket just as the train came to a stop and the porter came hurrying in and shouted, "Sorry, sah! Done forgot to call you sooner. Corinth!"
Both Jim and his fellow traveler jumped to their feet and hastened out. Jimmy saw that the card was that of "Mr. Charles W. Martin, Suites 105-7-9-11 Z, Flat Iron Bldg., New York. Specialist in everything pertaining to power plants."
Out on the platform Martin asked, "Where do you stop here in Corinth, Mr. Gollop?"