Pinkney rose.
“Well, I simply wanted to bring Captain Hamilton here. I don’t suppose you need me any more.” They didn’t, thanked him profusely, and he left. The Headman listened to Griffith for a while and then turned to another desk, where he worked over some papers.
Robert was to employ lesser Bogeys or sales managers under him—division Bogeys for states, regimental for cities.
“Now,” Griffith coughed and looked uneasy. “As for the matter of compensation. We realize that no matter how inspired a person’s motives may be, he can’t do his best work without remuneration. So I’ve devised a plan whereby our sales managers, that is our Bogeys, are able to carry on their splendid work and at the same time make a good thing of it.”
Mr. Lister looked up from his work, pursed his lips together and nodded importantly.
“The laborer is worthy of his reward,” he said.
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” agreed Griffith.
The reward was to be fifty cents for each new member. The initiation fee was $10.00. Of this the Bogey who actually sold the membership, or rather, gained the recruit, kept $4.00, the division Bogey kept $1.00 and the Grand Bogey fifty cents. Of course, the Grand Bogey would have twenty or thirty lesser Bogeys working under him, and although the recompense on each sale, or rather new membership—Griffith would drift back into the terminology of salesmanship—would be less, his total profits would be greater. Thus out of the $10.00, more than half, or $5.50, would go to the various Bogeys, and $4.50 was to be forwarded to the Commander Bogey, who was Griffith. If Robert actually sold the memberships himself, he would keep the other Bogey’s share. Then there was the mask, which was sold for $6.50, and the horse robe, $14.00; water for the initiation ceremony, at $10.00 a quart, and so forth, all of which brought their share of profit.
Robert wondered whether Pinkney was familiar with all these financial details of the organization, whether his father knew about it, whether the other citizens of Corinth who had discussed it so glowingly as a sort of new church sprung up. Well, one had to be practical. The main thing was to get a number of Americans united in a common purpose, and it took money to do these things. The contractors who had undertaken the undoubtedly patriotic work of building the army cantonments during the war had made profits. There was no use being a sentimentalist. Even the directors of charity drives received compensation for their work—often handsome compensation—and who could deny that raising money for charity was a good thing. True, if the Hamilton Corporation had not failed, Robert would not have accepted the position as Grand Bogey, except, perhaps, without compensation. But now he must be practical. He had been in Chicago only once before in his life, as a boy, and it would be interesting to see it again. It had changed a great deal. And then, too, he would have a chance to see McCall and Levin. Dorothy, too!
“I suppose you’ll join the American Legion,” said Griffith.