CHAPTER X
Old Mose Miller came slouching into the Bazar just before noon nextday. Old Mose lived up the river in a little shanty, but he had a bigfarm and fine barns and a herd of Holstein cattle that would make youreyes bung out. He lived all alone. Seemed like he didn't like folks.Mostly he wouldn't speak to anybody, and the man who went through hisgate without good and sufficient business was taking a chance. Isuppose every boy in Wicksville had been chased by Old Mose--and quitea lot of the men.
Well, Old Mose came in and began snarling around and making faces likeeverything he saw hit him on the wrong side of his temper. He was thehomeliest old coot you ever saw. Downright homely, he was! He didn'thave a hair on his head, and his eyebrows and eyelashes were gone. Ifthat was all he wouldn't have had much chance to be thoughtgood-looking, but it wasn't all. His nose was broken and camezigzagging down the middle of his face like a rail fence, and he hadonly about every second tooth in front. That's all that ailed his headif you forgot about his ears--and they were so big they flapped when hewalked.
The rest of him was just as bad, but I expect his feet were hisstrongest point. They were flat--flat as pancakes. And big! Well, say,folks was used to saying that in winter he didn't need to usesnow-shoes. If the rest of him had grown up to match his feet he'd havebeen eleven feet tall.
Mark stepped up to wait on him.
"W-what can I do for you, Mr. Miller?" he asked, as polite as could be.
"You kin talk like a human bein'," says Old Mose, "and not like a buggyjoltin' over a corduroy road."
I ducked down back of the counter so Mark couldn't see me laugh, for hedoes hate to have anybody make fun of his stuttering. I listened sharp,expecting him to give Old Mose as good as he sent, but not a word didhe say. In business hours he tended to business, and so long as acustomer didn't go too far Mark would be patient as a lamb. So he justwaited.
"Folks," says Old Mose, "is a pesky nuisance."
"Yes, sir," says Mark.
"Shet up," says Mose. "What d'you know about it?"
I could see Mark's eyes begin to twinkle and knew he was enjoyinghimself. Pretty soon Old Mose snapped at him again.
"I won't have no folks in the house with me. Not me. Can't make 'emshet up when you want 'em to. Talk, talk, talk, that's the way withfolks. Never run down."
"Yes, sir," says Mark.
"_Yes, sir! Yes, sir!_ Can't you say nothin' but 'Yes, sir'?"
"Yes, sir," says Mark, as innocent to look at as a head of cabbage.
Old Mose reached for his ears and took one in each hand. Then hestamped on the floor, and while he stamped he pulled. That's how hisears got so big, likely. Mad! My! he was mad. He jabbered and growledand called Mark an "idjit," and allowed that of all idjits he was theworst, and how came anybody to take the trouble to raise him? He wenton quite a spell before he quieted down. Then he started off on folksin general again.
"I don't like folks," he says in his cracked voice. "I don't like tohave 'em around. But I git tired of the sound of my own voice. Mightytired. Lots of times I don't talk to myself for a whole day, b'jing!There's times when I want somebody to talk to me. But you can't trustfolks. They wouldn't shut up. Not them. Can't turn 'em off. That's whyI come here." He glared at Mark as though he was to blame for the wholething. "Heard one of them talkin'-machines, that's what! Human voicecomin' out of it. Talk! Sing! Whistle! Likewise playin' of bands andsich-like. Better'n a human. Better comp'ny. Kin turn the screw andshut 'em off.... Got one of them talkin'-machines to sell?"
"Yes, sir," says Mark, and Old Mose scowled at him like he was ready totake a chunk out of his leg. "We g-got three kinds. Forty dollars,seventy dollars, and hundred and ten dollars."
"More'n they're wuth! More'n they're wuth. It's a cheat, I say. Fortydollars! Whoosh!"
"Let me p-play them for you," says Mark.
He started the seventy-dollar one off with a woman singing, and thenplayed a band piece, and another with a fellow telling jokes, and somemore and some more. Right in the middle of a piece Old Mose yelled:
"Shut 'er off! Lemme see you shut 'er off."
Mark snapped it off short, and Old Mose looked almost pleased--and Iguess he came as close to it as he could.
"Always shet up like that?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," says Mark.
"How much do them wax plates come at?"
"Different p-prices," says Mark. "Here's the list."
"Don't want to see it. Don't want to see it." He pulled a wallet out ofhis pocket and laid down a hundred-dollar bill. "Here," says he, "gimmethat machine and enough of them wax things to make up a hundreddollars' worth. Hear me? Want to keep me waitin' all day?"
"All ready for you in a s-second, sir," says Mark, and quicker than Ican tell you about it he had picked out the records and was packingthem careful so they wouldn't break.
"This'll give you a th-thousand votes," he says to Old Mose.
"Votes? What votes? What do I want of votes?"
"Handsomest-man contest," says Mark. "Folks in Wicksville is votin' tosee who he is."
Old Mose glared. "Young feller," says he, "if you're a-makin' fun of meI'm a-goin' to lay you acrost my knee and give you what your pa'sneglected to."
"It's not a j-joke, sir. Everybody's votin'. 'Most every man int-town's entered."
Old Mose chuckled. "Kin I vote 'em for anybody I want to?"
"Yes, sir."
He chuckled again, sort of mean-like.
"Gimme them votes. I calc'late I'll take 'em home and think it over.'Tain't no easy job to pick the handsomest man in this town.Wicksville's that full of handsome men they're stumblin' over eachother in the street. Handsome! If there's a feller in this town thatkin look at his own reflection without feelin' timid of it then _I_hain't seen him. Gimme them votes, I say. What's ailin' you?"
Mark counted out the votes and then we helped Old Mose load hisphonograph into his wagon. He climbed on to the seat and went offwithout even looking at us again. Crusty old codger, _I_ say.
"Plunk," says Mark, "d-don't hesitate about spreadin' the news."
"What news?"
"Why, that Old Mose has g-got a thousand votes--and that he hain't madeup his mind who to cast 'em for."
"What good 'll that do?"
"Remember the time Old Mose sicked his d-dog on us?"
"You bet I do."
"Here's our chance to g-git even. Mose don't like folks. As soon asthis news gits out he'll see plenty of 'em--mostly wimmin. Everybodythat's g-got a man entered in this contest'll be after Old Mose.There'll be a procession out to his house. He'll have more folkscampin' on his trail than he thought was in the county."
It was plain enough. I could just see Mrs. Peterson and Mrs. Bloom andthe Presbyterian ladies and the Baptist ladies trotting out to OldMose's and honeying around him and making his life miserable. It wouldbe as good as a show. They'd catch him in the morning and they'd catchhim in the afternoon, and it would be as much as his life was worth toshow his face in town. I just threw back my head and laughed like Ihaven't felt like laughing since father was hurt.
Mark didn't laugh, but his eyes twinkled. When I sobered down he says:
"We don't want to l-let this beauty contest take all our time. We gotto think up other schemes."
"Sure," says I.
"I been th-thinkin'," says he, "that we ought to find out somethin'everybody'll be wantin' about now--and git some we can sell cheap."
"Good idee," says I. "What'll it be?"
"I dun'no'--yet," says he.
We stood and thought and thought. Finally I remembered right off I knewsomething every woman in Wicksville would be buying about then.
"Cannin' season," says I.
"Course," says he. "Mason jars. Wonder what they cost?"
"I'll run over to the grocery and see," I says, and off I went.
The clerk said they were selling for fifty-five cents a dozen withoutthe rubbers.
"Hum," says Mark. "That's
about a n-nickel apiece. If we could sell 'emthree for a dime and make any profit at all we'd do consid'ableb-business."
"Where d'you buy 'em?" I wanted to know.
"Spillane & Company handle 'em," says he. "I'll write 'em a letter....No, I'll telegraph 'em. Save time." He went back to the desk to write amessage, but he stopped and thought.
"Price 'd d-depend on how many we was goin' to use," says he. "Wonderhow many we'd sell?"
"No way of tellin'," says I.
"There m-must be," says he in that arguing way of his. "We got to findout.... Say, you fellers go home and ask your mothers and my mother howmany they're goin' to buy this fall."
We went off obedient as little sheep. Mark's mother was going to needtwo dozen new ones, Binney's mother figured on three dozen, andTallow's mother allowed as how she needed about two dozen and a half.
Mark blinked and pinched his cheek and whistled a little.
"There's about two hundred h-houses in Wicksville. The population ofthe township's about four thousand, so that means about two hundredmore farm-houses. That's figgerin' five folks to the house for town andcountry. Looks like the average number of cans was about two d-dozenand a half. But that's high. Lots of folks don't set as good a table asyour f-folks. But 'most everybody in Wicksville cans some. Let's guesslow. Say a dozen cans to every house. How about that?"
"Too high," says I.
"Maybe so," says he; "b-better be safe and figger 'way low. Say eightcans to a house. How many's that?"
"Thirty-two hundred cans," says I.
"Course we couldn't sell _all_ of 'em--even if the p-price was low. Butwe could sell most--if we let folks know about it. Ought to sell twothousand of those cans."
"Ought to," says I, "but it'd be better to turn some f-folks away thanto have a couple of hundred cans left on hand."
"Um!... Well, say ten g-gross. That's fourteen hundred and forty. Howabout that?"
"Sounds safe to me," I says, and Tallow and Binney agreed.
"Then we'll wire for a price on that m-many," says Mark, and he turnsand makes out the message.
Wire best price ten gross quart Mason jars for sale.
SMALLEY'S BAZAR.
We sent off the message, but the answer didn't come till next morning.It said:
Can quote special price three ninety-five per gross delivered.
SPILLANE & COMPANY.
We sat down to figure. That would make the cans cost two andthree-quarter cents apiece. We could sell them three for ten cents andmake a profit of a cent and three-quarters. That would give us a totalprofit of eight dollars and forty cents. That wasn't much, but it was abrand-new profit in addition to everything else. We thought it wasworth trying, so we wired Spillane & Company to send on the goods.
They wired back that the goods would be shipped immediately and wouldget to Wicksville the next afternoon.
"Now for the advertising," says Mark.
He brought the horse and wagon and Tallow and Binney into commissionagain. This time the signs were about the Mason jars and the great salewe were going to have on Friday--three cans for ten cents. They droveall over town and out through the country, banging on a drum. I guessfolks were getting used to this way of telling them things, for whenthey heard the drum whanging women would come running to the door tosee what new thing we were up to. Mark put a big sign up in the window,too, and as the paper came out Thursday he put an advertisement in thattold all about it. That was about all we could do. Now the Wicksvillefolks would have to do the rest.
I can tell you we were all anxious. That deal meant an investment ofthirty-nine dollars and fifty cents. Not very much, maybe you will say.But it was a lot to us, fixed the way we were. If we should be stuckfor nearly forty dollars just at that time we would be in a hard way,and don't ever forget it. We _had_ to sell those jars!
Friday morning the jars were there and displayed in the window.Everything was ready for the sale, which was to start at ten o'clock.Mark had fixed up special tables and arranged things so that two of uswould sell, one would handle the money, and the other would wrap up thejars folks bought. By nine o'clock we were ready--and there wasn'tanything to do but wait. It was a long, anxious hour.
Well, sir, about a quarter past nine we heard a bell ringing fit tobust itself out in the street. Then we heard another bell. All of usran to the door. There, just starting out from the Five-and-Ten-CentStore, were three boys with big signs on the ends of poles--and thosesigns said:
GREAT SALE OF MASON JARS! FOUR FOR TEN CENTS AT THE FIVE-AND-TEN-CENT STORE SALE OPEN NOW!
_Four for ten cents!_ That was a quarter of a cent less than we had topay Spillane & Company for them!
Mark Tidd in Business Page 10
