Mark Tidd in Business

by Clarence Budington Kelland

  CHAPTER VII

  When I got back to the Bazar from dinner that Saturday noon Mark had abig sign in one window that said the list of candidates with theirvotes would be put up at two o'clock. In the other window was just aline across the top that said:

  CANDIDATES AND THEIR VOTES

  There wasn't anything under--it was just waiting there, staring folksin the face.

  Along about a quarter past one in came a delegation of ladies from theMethodist church, nominating their parson, Rev. Hamilton Hannis. Theywere buzzing away, and all excited as a meeting of crows in amaple-tree. Somehow the Congregationalists had got hold of the news andin came six of them before the Methodists had cleared out. Theynominated Rev. Orson Whipit, _their_ minister. We got a matter of sixdollars and seventy cents out of the two parties.

  "Binney," says Mark, "hain't your f-f-folks Baptists?"

  "Yes," says Binney.

  "Skin home, then," says Mark, "and tell your ma."

  Off went Binney with the news, and in twenty minutes in came sevenBaptist ladies with their pocketbooks and determined expressions, readyto stand up for _their_ parson, Rev. Jenkins McCormick. They investedthree dollars and forty cents. That made ten dollars and ten cents wegot out of those three denominations.

  There were three others to hear from--the United Brethren, theUniversalists, and the Catholics, but they didn't get wind of what wasgoing on till later in the day. We got the whole six of them in theend, but the main contest turned out to be between the first three.

  Six other women came in to put up their husbands' names, and fourschool-teachers got there separately and privately to nominate Mr.Pilkins, the principal.

  "If they v-v-vote as hard as they nominate," stuttered Mark, "we'llhave to order more goods."

  We put up the list at two o'clock. Just before it went up Chancy Millercame sneaking in the back door with two dollars and twenty cents, andnominated himself. He bought a pair of military brushes and a bottle ofperfume. He let on he was going to buy some kid gloves as soon as hesaved up another dollar.

  "I calc'late," says he, "that folks'll sort of flock in to vote for meas soon's they see my name."

  "Well," says Mark, "they'll f-f-flock in, all right, Chancy, but Icalc'late you got to depend on the unmarried vote. It beats all what ap-p-pile of han'some husbands and ministers there is here."

  "Ministers!" Chancy was like to choke. "Is _ministers_ comin' in? Now Idon't call that fair. Why," says he, "them Prince Albert coats oftheirn give 'em a head start right off. Besides," says he, "ministershave more time to slick up."

  "Sure," says Mark, "but not a one of 'em has c-c-curly hair."

  "I'd buy me one of them coats," says Chancy, "but I hain't got themoney. Besides," says he, "what money I git has got to go for votes."

  Mark was quick as a flash.

  "We can order a suit to your m-m-measure," says he, "from a Chicagocatalogue. That'll give you a sight of votes and us a little profit."

  But Chancy didn't have the money and we didn't give any credit, so thatdeal was off.

  There was quite a few folks waiting in front to see the list go up, sowe went and got it ready. There were a lot of names on it, but thethree ministers were ahead, with Chancy and Chet next and the schoolprincipal next, and then Mr. Peterson and Mr. Bloom and the handsomehusbands in a string, pretty much together.

  All told there were two hundred and twenty-six votes cast. That madeour morning's business twenty-two dollars and sixty cents. That waspretty good for the first half-day.

  First off most of the men in town looked at it as a joke and put inconsiderable time laughing. That was mostly early in the day, though.By the middle of the afternoon their women folks had done more or lesstalking, and the men got around gradual to seeing it wasn't so awfulfunny, after all. The women never saw anything funny about it at all.It was pretty serious to them, I can tell you, especially to them thathad husbands a person could look at without smoked glasses on.

  Probably not a woman in Wicksville ever thought whether her man washandsomer than somebody else until Mark schemed up this contest. But,as Mark says, as soon as somebody else lets on he's handsomer or biggeror smarter than you are, you get mad and say he isn't. It don't matter,says Mark, whether you ever thought you were handsome or big or smartbefore. You begin to think so then. Even if you don't really think soyou let on you do and are willing to back it up.

  Everybody got it--even old Peasley Snell. His name wasn't on the list,and if you was to ask me, it wasn't likely to be, for old Peasley wasabout the weazenedest, orneriest, dried-up, scraggly-haired critter inWicksville. But Peasley he stopped and read the list. His wife was withhim. Peasley read from top to bottom. Then he began talking to his wife:

  "Pete Bloom!" says he, and sniffed. "Huh! Handsome! Huh!... JasonPeterson. Whee! And them others! Who d'you calc'late nominated 'em,Susie?"

  "I dun'no'," says Susie.

  "It was their wives," I says from the door.

  "Wives," grunted old Peasley. "Wives, is it? Huh! Why, young feller?Why?"

  "I guess they nominated 'em," says I, "because they wanted to let onthey thought their husbands was as good as anybody else's husbands."

  Old Peasley stopped and thought and blinked and chewed on his tongue.Every once in a while he'd look at his wife and scowl. Pretty soon heraised his bony finger and tapped her on the shoulder:

  "Susie," says he, "my name hain't on that list."

  "No," says she.

  "Why?" says he.

  "I dun'no'," says she.

  "Peterson's there," says he, "and Bloom."

  "Yes," says she.

  "Their wives done it."

  Mrs. Snell nodded her head.

  "Mis' Snell," says old Peasley, "don't you calc'late I got any pride?Don't you calc'late I got any feelin's? Say! Do I want folks rushin'around sayin' Peasley Snell's wife says her husband is homely as asquashed tomato? Eh? Well? Maybe," says he, "I hain't what you'd call_handsome_, but b'jing! I don't have to wear no veil--not when PeteBloom and Jase Peterson's around, anyhow. What'll folks think? Eh?"

  "I dun'no', Peasley," says his wife.

  "I know," says he. "They'll say Peasley Snell's wife don't love, honor,and obey him, that's what they'll say. They'll say Peasley Snell hain'tof no account in his own family. They'll say his wife'd rather have anyother man in town than him.... And, Mis' Snell, I hain't a-goin' toendure it. Mark me! Your duty is plain before your eyes. You git intothat Bazar, Mis' Snell, and you git my name on that list. And you seeto it that your husband has as many votes after his name as Bloom orPeterson. That's what. Now Mis' Snell, march."

  She marched, and old Peasley's name went on the list with one vote morethan Bloom.

  That's the way it went. Fellers that were nominated started worryingabout how many votes they were going to get, and fellers that weren'tnominated got mad about it. Also there were others besides Chet andChancy that nominated themselves.

  Till 'most midnight customers kept us so busy we couldn't hardlybreathe. At last we shut the doors and counted up to see what we'ddone. A hundred and thirty-two dollars and fifty-seven cents for oneday! That wasn't the best of it, either, for we'd got rid of a lot ofold stuff that had been cluttering up the store for years. In a littlemore we'd be down to real stock.

  "Calc'late," says Mark, "we better be castin' our eyes around forsomethin' new and special to sell. We want our stock to be b-b-betterthan Jehoshaphat P. Skip's."

  "Sure," says I.

  "We got to stock up on first-class s-s-staples," says Mark, "and git,besides, some specialties that'll stir folks up a leetle."

  We were pretty tired and sleepy, so we didn't talk about it any morethat night. Next morning all of us went to church, but after dinner wewent to Mark's house, and his mother made molasses taffy--and keptscolding about it all the time and saying we'd ruin the furniture andmess up our clothes. That was the way with Mrs. Tidd. She was alwaysstirring around, busy as could be, and mostly she wa
s sort of scoldingat Mark or Mr. Tidd--but she didn't mean a bit of it. I never knewanybody so free with pies and fried cakes and things as she was.

  Along about the middle of the afternoon we heard a jangling andrattling, and above it all somebody whistling like all-git-out. Well,sir, we jumped for the window, because we knew _that_ racket. There,just turning into the yard, was a red peddler's wagon. To-day, it beingSunday, the pots and pans and brooms and whips and things that usuallywere stuck all over it were out of sight inside, but they jangled justthe same. On the seat was a man whistling "Marching Through Georgia"with runs and trills and funny quirks to it. His nose was pointedstraight up and his eyes were shut. His horse was finding its waywithout any help from him. If you didn't look at anything but the man'sface you'd have said he was about six feet and a half high, but whenyou looked at the rest of him you saw right off that things had gotmixed--he had the wrong body. He was less than five feet tall, and hewas more than three feet wide--or he looked so, anyhow.

  All of a sudden his horse stopped. The little man raised his big headwith a snap and jerked it first in one direction and then in another.Then he took hold of the end of his nose and gave it a tweak as if ithad managed to get out of shape. Then slow as molasses he began to getdown.

  At that we boys rushed out of the house, and Mr. Tidd and his wifefollowed a little slower. The little man saw us, put his hand on hisstomach and made a low bow; then he put a thumb in the armhole of hisvest and straightened up as dignified as a senator.

  "You are not mistaken, my friends. Your eyes do not deceive you. It isZadok Biggs. None other. I am entranced--delighted is the more ordinaryexpression--to see you. I am more than delighted to see thatprodigious--remarkable is the commoner word--youth, Marcus AureliusFortunatus Tidd. There's a name! The parents who gave that name totheir son are remarkable parents! Parents, I salute you.... And there,too, are my three young friends, Plunk and Binney and Tallow." He wavedhis hand at us as though we were a block away.

  He didn't give anybody a chance to say a word, but led us into thehouse and invited us to sit down.

  "Ah, this is magnificent, this is glorious. How Zadok Biggs has lookedforward to it! Madam, aside from a seat on the Supreme Bench atWashington, I most aspire to this one. Tell me all about yourselves;you, Marcus Aurelius Fortunatus Tidd, tell me all about yourself. Haveyou been finding opportunities? Ah, there's a word! Opportunities areeverywhere. There's Plunk, now, missing an opportunity. There's achair, a comfortable chair, yet he remains erect--standing is the moreusual expression. Seize your opportunity, Plunk, and be seated. NowMarcus, I listen. My ears yearn for the news you have to tell."

  Maybe you never met Zadok Biggs before, but we had, I can tell you. Wegot acquainted with him when Mr. Tidd come close to losing theturbine-engine he had invented and which made him rich, and Zadok did alot to help us get it back. I really don't believe we ever would havegot it back if it hadn't been for him. So we were pretty good friends,and every time he was near Wicksville with his tin-peddler's wagon he'dstop overnight with Mark, and we'd all spend the evening together.

  "Relate--tell is the less dignified term--the news, Marcus," hedirected a second time.

  Mark started in and told him all about everything: how father was hurtand had to go to the hospital, and how we four boys were running thestore, and about Jehoshaphat P. Skip, and about the chattel mortgage,and about the handsomest-man contest. When Mark was done Zadok got upand rushed over to me and patted me on the shoulder. There were tearsin his eyes.

  "Plunk," says he, "my heart bleeds for your father and mother. I couldweep for them in their trouble. I will visit your father in thehospital--be sure of that, Zadok Biggs will visit him and cheer him.Ha! That is something. Also I shall tell him about his son. A fatherloves to hear good of his son. It will help him on the road torecovery. I am proud of you, Plunk. I am proud of all of you. Youare--indeed, I may say it with honest pride--you are a credit to me."Then he hurried back and sat down.

  "I'm afraid," I says, after a while, "that we've bit off more'n we canchew comfortable--countin' in that chattel mortgage."

  "It is an obstacle. Oh, there is no doubt of that! Alone you mightfail, but is not Marcus Tidd with you? Ha! That counts for much. AndZadok Biggs! What of him? He is heart and soul with you. From thisminute Jehoshaphat P. Skip is his enemy. Zadok will help you. Zadokwill advise you. Best of all, Zadok will look about him foropportunities." Looking for opportunities was Zadok's specialty. "Wewill show this Jehoshaphat P. Skip--a detestable name; I abhor such aname--we will show him!"

  He turned to Mark.

  "You are in business," says he. "Business is the game that keeps theworld going. Business is checkers; business is football; business isBrains. Would you hear my business rules? They will aid you--help isthe more common word. I will write them in a row so you can see themand remember them."

  He pulled a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pocket and wrote:

  ZADOK BIGGS'S BUSINESS RULES

  First--Find out what people want.

  Second--Give it to 'em.

  Third--Buy it cheap.

  Fourth--Only a fair profit.

  Fifth--Never spend a cent that won't bring back a cent.

  Sixth--Every man is a customer--treat him so.

  Seventh and last--Never sell a thing you wouldn't be glad to buy yourself at the price.

  He stood up, bowed like he was going to speak a piece, and read it offto us. Folks may think Zadok is a little peculiar, but I want to tellyou that every inch of room in his big head is stuffed full of brains.A half-witted cat could see the sense in those business rules of his.