Mark Tidd in Business
Page 11
CHAPTER XI
"There," says I, "goes thirty-nine dollars and a half."
Tallow and Binney were pretty discouraged, too, and Mark looked moredownhearted than I ever saw him. Mr. Jehoshaphat P. Skip had aboutknocked us all off our feet.
"We'll have to go on with the sale," I says. "Maybe we can get rid ofsome--and that'll save us a dollar or so, anyhow."
Mark didn't say a word. I saw him fumbling around in his pocket afterhis jackknife--and that meant business. He had done a lot of thinkingsince we started to run the Bazar, but this was the first time he hadwanted to whittle. That was about the last help he depended on. Wheneverything else failed Mark Tidd whittled.
He went back behind the counter with a piece of box and startedlittering up the floor. We stayed away from him and waited. It wasfifteen minutes, maybe, before we saw his head coming up into sight. Hedidn't look happy and his eyes didn't twinkle. But he _did_ lookdetermined. We fellows have been in some tight places with Mark, andhave met some pretty mean men, but Jehoshaphat P. Skip was the firstone to get Mark mad clean through and through.
"Well?" says I, as he came around the end of the counter.
"This man Skip," says he, "hasn't had time to get in a fresh s-s-stockof Mason jars."
"What of it?"
"D-don't b'lieve he's got many. Just his regular stock."
"But he's spoiled our sale, anyhow."
Mark shook his head. "Maybe so--but we'll see. Got some friends we candepend on? Grown-up folks?"
"There's Uncle Ike Bond--and I'll bet Chet Weevil and Chancy Miller 'ddo 'most anything for us, with the beauty contest going on."
"G-good," says Mark. "Who else?"
"Dad," says Binney.
"My dad, too," says Tallow.
"F-fine. Need more, though."
We thought up a dozen folks and Mark asked us to run to see them andfind out if they would come to the Bazar just a minute. He said to tellthem it was important.
In another fifteen minutes they were there--a dozen of them. Mark stoodup and says:
"I want you f-f-folks to buy Mason jars--from Jehoshaphat P. Skip. He'ssellin' 'em for less than we can buy them for. D-don't b'lieve he's gotmany dozen."
"What's the idee?" says Uncle Ike.
"We got a sale on," says Mark. "Th-three jars for a dime. This manSkip--just to bust up our sale--goes and advertises f-four jars for adime. What we got to do is buy every last jar he's got--_quick_! We gotto buy 'em before Wicksville folks start buyin'. When they come to buyfrom the Five-and-Ten-Cent Store there mustn't be any there to b-b-buy."
Uncle Ike slapped his leg. "Smartest kid I ever see," says he tohimself. "Greased lightenin's slow. Folks, I've been drivin' a 'bus agood many years, and you git to know a lot on a 'bus. Grand eddication.But never in all them years have I seen the beat of this here MarkTidd. No, sir. He tops the pile."
Everybody was willing to help us out, so Mark gave them money out ofthe till and they straggled off to the Five-and-Ten-Cent Store. Eachone was to buy all he could.
Uncle Ike came first with two dozen, and Binney's dad brought twodozen--seems that's all Skip would sell to one person. Then the reststraggled in with two dozen apiece till it came to Chet Weevil.
"Only got half a dozen," says he, grinning all over. "The lasthalf-dozen there was. We've cleaned him out. Every last can's bought."
Then Mark grinned--and said thank you to everybody and told us to getto our places, for the sale was going to start. He went back to paint anew sign. It said:
WHEN YOU COME BACK FROM THE FIVE-AND-TEN-CENT STORE WITHOUT ANY MASON JARS BUY THEM HERE THREE FOR A DIME WE HAVE PLENTY
He put that up and then we waited.
I stood in the door where I could watch the Five-and-Ten-Cent Store.Quite a lot of folks went in--and came out again looking sort of mad.Most of them came back up the street, and when they saw our new signthey turned in. Provoked! Say, they believed, I guess, that Skip hadplayed a joke on them.
"Have _you_ got any Mason jars?" old Mrs. Stovall says, sharp-like.
"L-lots of 'em, ma'am," says Mark. "Three for a dime."
"Gimme two dozen," says she. And then she shook her black bonnet tillthe jet beads rattled. "I went into that other place," says she, "andthat smart Alec of a clerk says they was all sold out. Fine way totreat folks! Advertise a thing and then not have it to sell."
"Yes, ma'am," says Mark. "You'll find this Bazar always has what itadvertises, and as g-g-good as it advertises."
"I hain't never been cheated here," she says, "and I won't never becheated _there_. I'll never step a foot inside that store again if itwas the last place on the footstool."
Mark began to look cheerful, and as time went along he looked morecheerful. We had a steady stream of customers--and most of them hadbeen to the other store first. And they were mad. Skip had done hisbusiness more harm that morning than as if he'd locked up his door toshut folks out. He'd made them mad--and he'd fixed it so they weresuspicious of him. Mark says if you get folks to distrusting you youmight just as well shut up shop, and I guess it's so.
By noon eight gross of our cans were gone and we were beginning toworry for fear we would run out--and we would have run out, too, if ithadn't been for those we bought from Skip--almost a gross. They justsaved our bacon. When we shut the store at six o'clock there wereexactly six cans left in the house. We had made a profit of eightdollars and forty cents on our own cans, and on the one hundred andtwenty-six jars we bought from Skip at two cents apiece we had clearedjust one dollar--and lots of satisfaction. It was a total profit ofnine dollars and forty cents instead of a loss of thirty-nine dollarsand a half. And Mark Tidd had done it. With that _thinking_ brain ofhis he'd got us out of the worst kind of a hole--and put Jehoshaphat P.Skip into one. He's done a lot of things that got bigger results, but Idon't believe he ever did anything that was any _smarter_.
"Wish somebody'd tell Skip just what happened to him," I says.
"Me, too," says Binney and Tallow, and Tallow said he guessed he'd gotell Skip himself.
"No need," says Mark, "the story's all over town. Everybody knows bythis t-time--and everybody 'll be laughin' at Jehoshaphat to-morrow. Ithain't a good th-thing for a b-business man to have the town laughin'at him."
"Humiliatin'," says I, "and especially when he got caught in his owntrap by a kid he's 'most old enough to be granddad to."
Mark chuckled.
"We did pretty good," says he.
"_We!_" says I. "We didn't have anything to do with it. It was you--andyou get all the credit that's comin'."
Mark shrugged his shoulders so the fat at the back of his neck tried tocrowd his ears. He was willing enough to be praised and liked to havefolks think he was a wonder--but he wasn't mean about it. He nevertried to hog the glory and was willing the rest of us should get all wecould. But it did tickle him to know we appreciated him--and hedeserved to be tickled.
We passed Jehoshaphat P. on our way home and grinned at himcheerful-like. I thought for a minute he was going to stop and saysomething, but he strangled it back and went on as fast as his thinlegs would carry him. Tallow started to yell something after him, butMark made him shut up.
"That's all right for kids," says he, "but we're business men--for awhile, anyhow. Let's act like b-b-business men."
Wasn't that Mark all over! Whatever he did or whatever he pretended todo--he was that thing. If we played cowboy he was a cowboy, and actedand thought like a cowboy. I calculate if we were to make believe wewere aeroplanes he'd spread his arms and fly.
We passed my house and I turned in.
"To-morrow's Saturday," says I, "and a long day. Get a good sleepto-night."
"Yes," says Mark. "We g-got to stir things up t-to-morrow. Folks 'll beexpectin' somethin' of us. Mustn't d-disappoint anybody. Good night."
; I said good night and went in the house. There was a letter there frommother. She said dad was getting along pretty well, but it would be amonth before he could leave the hospital. She said she told him what weboys were doing and he was proud of us, and she was proud of us, too.
"I don't know what we'd ever do without our boy and his friends," shesaid. "Especially Mark Tidd. You thank the boys for us, son, and tellMark Tidd the thing he is doing and the way he has come to help us issomething a very sick man and a troubled woman are grateful for to thebottoms of their hearts. His mother must be proud of him."
I went over to Mark's house after supper and read him that. He wasquiet for a long time--and I saw him blink and blink because somethingcame into his eyes he didn't want me to see. Pretty soon he says:
"Plunk, there's different ways of gettin' paid for things. There'smoney and fame and such-like, but, honest, seems to me, and you cant-tell your mother so for me, that what she says in her letter is thef-finest thing that ever happened." He blinked again a couple of times."When you're th-through with it, Plunk, I wish you'd give me thatletter. I'd--I'd like to keep it--always."
That was a side of Mark Tidd I never saw before. It sort of gave me alook inside of him. Always before I'd thought about his being smart andscheming and sharper than most folks, but now I saw there was somethingmore--maybe something better and worth more to have--a great big heartthat was full of sympathy for folks and that could be sorry when otherfolks were sorry and glad when they were glad.
I was pretty embarrassed and couldn't find a word to say, but I gavehim the letter. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket.
"Plunk," says he, "I'd s-sort of like to read this to dad andm-mother.... I guess they'd like to hear it."
"Sure," says I, sort of pinched in my throat. I know how _my_ folkswould be glad to have somebody say such a thing about me. My mother 'dcry, I know, but it wouldn't be because she was sorry. Not much. So Isays "Sure," and got out of there as fast as I could, because I didn'tknow how much longer I'd last without getting messy and actinglike--like a fellow doesn't like to act.