CHAPTER VII
JIMMY GOES SHOPPING
Jimmy was very conscientiously obeying Mart Proctor’s request topractice punting. As a senior who was not overburdening himself withextra courses, Jimmy had several periods of leisure between nine inthe morning and three in the afternoon, and while these periods cameat different hours on different days they never failed, and, as ithappened, Tuesdays came very close to being full holidays for him. Onthose days his morning was blissfully free from the requirements ofclass attendance, and not until eleven-thirty did his schedule meana thing to him. Usually there was some one on the field when Jimmyarrived who was quite willing to chase his punts and kick them back tohim, and so he had already put in a good many hours of work outsidethe regular practice sessions. He had requisitioned a football fromJake and kept it in his room, since more often than not he went fromdormitory to field without stopping at the gymnasium for a change ofraiment. Casting aside his jacket, he was ready for the task, sincehe always affected knickerbockers. An old pair of football shoes, onehaving a tan lacing and the other a black, which ordinarily kickedabout under his bed collecting dust, were donned before leaving theroom. On Tuesdays, however, Jimmy dressed for the work and engaged theaid of some football aspirant whose hours of leisure matched his.
On this particular Tuesday, the day following the small events narratedin the preceding chapter, Jimmy, having picked up the football fromwhere it had lodged under Stanley’s bed, viewed it with disapprobation.It was a very old ball, and a very scarred and battered one. As Jimmymentally phrased it, it had whiskers all over it, by which he meantthat what may be termed the epidermis of the ball was abraded andscruffy and adorned with little--for want of a better word--hang-nailsof leather which in Jimmy’s opinion mitigated seriously against bothdistance and accuracy. Of course he couldn’t expect a brand-new ball,but it did seem as if Jake might have found one less feeble and senilethan this! Why, the poor thing ought to have been retired on a pensionyears ago! Jimmy viewed it dubiously and at last distastefully,dropping it from one hand to the other. If he had a decent ball to workwith--
Well, why not? If the management wouldn’t afford him one, why not buyone of his own? Why not indeed? Jimmy tossed the ancient pigskin fromhim, unmindful of direction or ultimate destination, pulled out thetop drawer of his chiffonier and selected two bills from a numberthat reposed in a small box there. Then he looked at his watch. He hadcommandeered Neirsinger, a quarter-back candidate, for half-past nine.It was now twelve minutes after. In eighteen minutes he could get toWest street, purchase a new football and--well, if not reach the fieldat least get within sight of it. So, stuffing the money in a pocket, hehurried forth and down the stairs and across the Green by an illegalbut well-defined path that led straight to the center gate. Being likemost of us a creature of habit, Jimmy’s subconscious mind was leadinghim to Crocker’s hardware store, and to Crocker’s hardware store hewould have gone, so, doubtless, moving Stanley to reproaches, had hiseyes not caught sight of an unaccustomed object when, having traveledthe block between the Green and West street, he turned to his left onthe latter thoroughfare.
The object was suspended above a doorway a half-dozen rods from thecorner, a sign about two feet in length and somewhat less than afoot and a half wide. It hung from a projecting wrought-iron rod, atright angles to the building, and presented a bravely gay broadsideto the passers, for paint and gilt were still new and fresh upon it.There was background of dead black against which was portrayed agolden-brown football. Above and below the ball read the legend inplain but quaintly old-fashioned lettering: Sign of the Football. Theletters, like the molding that surrounded the whole, were of gilt. Inits way, that swinging sign was quite a work of art, and Jimmy, who hada keen appreciation of the picturesque, paid it tribute ere, stoppingstock-still two doors away, he viewed it fixedly, frowningly for amoment. Then:
“‘Inverted bracket,’” he muttered triumphantly. “‘Inverted bracket.’That’s it!”
He went on triumphantly, aware now that he had no business to transactat Crocker’s, and wondering that he had forgotten the new store. Underthe glittering sign he stopped and observed the windows. In that athis left were displayed four weary-looking geraniums, bearing a fewpink blossoms, in pots; two ornamental vases filled with dahlias ofvarious hues; a glass sign that leaned against the vases and proclaimedin gold letters against a black ground: Pulsifer the Florist--Funeralsa Specialty; and, finally, somewhat in the background and sounobtrusively suggestive, a wreath of artificial ivy and white roses.Jimmy turned from this appalling display with a shudder and moved tothe window beyond.
This, he told himself commendingly, was better. Against an expanseof clean white paper lay, at either side, a pennant; at the left thegold-and-gray of Alton, at the right the blue-and-white of High School.Between these had been assembled a fairly enticing array of seasonablearticles: a football, a head harness, a nose-guard, one of the smallhorns affected by umpires, a shining nickel whistle, two pairs ofshoes, two pairs of woolen hose, a tennis racket, a box of felt-cladballs and one or two other objects. Across the back of the window hunga low curtain of dark blue material and against it was a colorfulposter: a brawny youth in togs, football nestled against his ribs,arm outstretched, face stern with ferocious determination, spurning avividly green sod beneath flying feet. Below the figure was the crypticlegend: “PandF spells Best.”
Jimmy entered the store. It wasn’t a very large store, even for Weststreet, and it was rather dark. On the left was the establishmentof J. Warren Pulsifer: a long counter, bare save for some wrappingpaper and a box of pins, a desk surrounded by iron grilling, arefrigerator, or what looked like such, behind whose glass doors couldbe indistinctly glimpsed a modest stock of flowers in tall, brownpapier-mâché receptacles. There were, also, two tiers of shelves backof the counter, and these held an array of dusty boxes. Behind the irongrilling a tall, dejected looking man with faded hair and mustachelooked anxiously up from his desk as Jimmy entered and then with aslump of his narrow shoulders that was, Jimmy was certain, accompaniedby a sigh of relief, returned to his occupation.
The other side of the store held a duplicate of the long counter, butit had been recently varnished and so presented a different appearance.Varnished, also, had been the shelves beyond, while a six-footshow-case near the entrance lent an added air of luxury. In fact, thisside of the store was, in contrast, almost startlingly gay. Boxesof various colors thronged the shelves, pennants hung above them, ablue-and-white sweater lay across the counter, articles of leather andmetal gleamed from the show-case, show-cards and posters and placardswere numerous. Jimmy thought, in fact, that there were rather too manyof these latter, even if they did lend a certain air of business.Viewing cannily the, after all, rather scanty furnishings and stock onhand, he felt that there was something akin to bravado in that displayof advertising placards.
There was but one customer within when Jimmy arrived, a small youthof perhaps a dozen years who was frowning doubtfully over a helmetdisplayed before him on the counter. Behind the latter stood thesenior partner of the new firm, and at Jimmy’s appearance he looked upinquiringly.
“Hello,” said Jimmy, ending his leisurely inspection of the premises.“I’d like to get a football, please. No hurry.” He had quite forgottenNeirsinger and the flight of time.
“Just a moment,” answered Russell. The boy laid the helmet down with asigh of rejection.
“Maybe I’ll be back,” he muttered, and turned away from the counterwith a last desirous look at the article.
“All right,” replied Russell cordially. “Glad to see you.”
Jimmy smiled as Russell turned to him. “Didn’t have enough money, Iguess,” he said.
Russell shook his head, and smiled, too. “I showed him a cheaper one,and one that would have fitted him, but he said he wanted to buy one hecould ‘grow into’! You wanted a football?” He reached to a shelf behindhim, drew down a box, set it on the counter and took the lid off. Thebox was empty, a
nd he pushed it aside and reached for another. “Sillyto put the empties back on the shelf,” he said carelessly as he openedthe next box. Jimmy’s gaze roved over the rows of boxes and he smiledquizzically, but to himself.
The football looked very good to him as he searchingly examined it, butit was different from those he had been used to, a fact explained whenhis eyes fell on a design lightly burned into the outer leather. It wasa diamond enclosing the characters “P. & F.” Curiosity clamored. “Say,for the love of lemons, Emerson, what does ‘P. & F.’ mean?” he demanded.
“Proctor and Farnham. They’re the makers. Ever used any of their goods?”
“No, never heard of them. New folks?”
“New in the East. They’ve been making footballs and things for yearsand selling in the West. They’ve just begun to go after this part ofthe country and we succeeded in getting the agency here. Very goodstuff they make. Notice the way that ball is sewed? Those seams can’topen in a hundred years, I guess. And that leather’s the best horsehideprocurable. There’s a big difference in leather, you know. Some ballsscuff up the first time they’re used after they’ve been once wet.”
Jimmy nodded. “I know. Looks pretty good, still I’m sort of used to theother balls, Emerson.”
“I can sell you your kind,” Russell returned, “but I’d like awfullyto have you try one of these. You see, fellows are sort of shy of newthings and you’ve got to get them started. After that they go allright. If you care to try this Proctor and Farnham ball I’ll guaranteeto give you a new ball or your money back if you decide you don’t likeit after a fair trial.”
“Fair enough,” said Jimmy. “I’ll take it. By the way, what’s theprice?” His eyebrows lifted when he heard it and he frowned a little.“What’s the price of the others?”
“Just the same,” replied Russell, folding a paper neatly about thepasteboard box.
“But that’s forty cents less than Crocker asks!” protested Jimmy.
“Then they ask forty cents too much,” answered the other calmly. “Ithink you’ll find Crocker’s prices going down before long.”
“I wouldn’t wonder,” agreed Jimmy. He picked up a pair of greenish-graysport hose from the counter. “How much are these?”
“Three and a half,” said Russell. “We’ve got some good ones for less,though.”
“Guess I don’t need any just now, but those are mighty good-looking.Doing any business yet, Emerson?”
“Fair,” answered Russell, exchanging the bundle for Jimmy’s money. “Ofcourse, it takes time to get started.”
“I suppose so.” With bundle in hand, Jimmy showed little inclinationto hurry away. “You seem to have a pretty big stock here,” he went on.“Must take some money to get a place like this going.”
Russell nodded. “Quite a bit,” he agreed. “We haven’t laid in muchexcept fall stuff yet. Have to go a bit slow at first.”
“Yes,” mused Jimmy. He was wondering if the storekeeper recognized him.If he had he certainly hadn’t shown it by so much as a flicker of hiseye-lids. “Say, I saw you at that hotel at Pine Harbor, didn’t I?” heasked.
“Yes, I waited on you there,” replied Russell readily.
“I thought so,” murmured Jimmy. He was sitting on the edge of thecounter now, swinging his legs thoughtfully. “Say, Emerson, I likeyour pluck,” he continued after a moment. “Working there at the hotel,you know, and then starting this place. Makes me feel downright lazyand no-good, though. Hope you’ll have all kinds of success.”
“Thanks,” said Russell, a little surprised. “I guess I wouldn’t bedoing either thing if I didn’t have to, though, Austen; so I supposethere isn’t much credit coming to me.”
“Rot!” said Jimmy. “Lots of fellows need money and never think ofgetting out and hustling for it. They just let the old man come acrosswith it. Don’t see why a fellow shouldn’t help his folks put himthrough school and college. Wish I could do it myself!”
“Can’t you?” laughed Russell.
Jimmy shook his head and frowned. “Wouldn’t know what to do nor how todo it,” he answered. “Besides, my father wouldn’t--” But he stoppedthere. “How do you fix it for time?” he resumed. “I mean, don’trecitations interfere with looking after this place?”
“Yes, but we manage pretty well. You see, Patterson’s a senior and I’ma junior, and most days we make it go all right. If we can’t eitherof us be here Mr. Pulsifer explains that we’ll be back in an hour. Isuppose we lose some customers that way, but it can’t be helped. Thestore is closed for an hour at noon, too, but lots of them do that inthis part of town. To-day I’m here until a couple of minutes to ten andthen Stick--that’s my partner--stays until twelve. I’m here always inthe afternoon from three-thirty to six, and sometimes Stick comes over,too. When there’s no one to wait on we can study pretty well here.”
“I thought you were playing football with the second, though,” saidJimmy.
“I had to give it up,” replied Russell. “Some one has to be hereafternoons, and three mornings a week I can’t get around at all andStick has to do it all.”
“Too bad, though,” Jimmy said. “About football, I mean. Still, maybethey don’t need you much. The scrubs have been pushing us around prettyfiercely so far.” Jimmy looked at his watch, whistled and jumped tothe floor. “I must be getting back. I’ll give this ball a try-out thismorning, Emerson, and let you know how I like it. And I’ll see thatfellows know about your prices, too! Good luck!”
So Jimmy went his way briskly, a full twenty minutes late, and Russell,folding up the stockings that the customer had admired, smiledcontentedly. He had at last succeeded in selling a “P. & F.” football,after several attempts, and, fortunately, to a fellow who, for someunknown reason, was anxious to boost the store. Russell decided toorder four more balls that very day, since, in spite of the brave arrayof boxes on the shelf which looked as if they might contain footballs,the only other ball in stock reposed in the window!
When, presently, Stick Patterson arrived Russell announced to himthe sale with much satisfaction and delegated to him the writing andmailing of the order to New York. Stick was equally pleased, but hevoiced doubts as to the order. “They cost a lot of money, Rus,” hesaid. “Better get two instead of four, don’t you think? We can ordertwo more later if those sell.”
“All right,” Russell agreed. Sometimes Stick’s conservatism was atrifle dampening, but he realized that it wasn’t a bad idea to havesuch a check on his enthusiasm. Without it his optimism might some daylead him to an error of judgment. “I’ll bet we’ll sell them, though,Stick. Austen’s sort of a leader in his crowd, and if he likes thatball he will say so, and from what he said I know he wants to like it,and I’m sure he will.”
“I fancy the ball’s all right,” returned Stick cautiously, “but notmany fellows buy them. Did he want tick?”
“No, he didn’t say anything about having it charged. I was mighty glad,too, for I’d have hated to have lost a customer like him.”
“Wish the fellows that come around when I’m here were like that,”retorted Stick. “They always want tick and get sore when I tell them wedon’t give credit. Any one else in, Rus?”
“Only a small kid looking at a helmet. He may be back. I tried to sellhim one of the cheap ones, but he wouldn’t have it. Well, I’ll runalong, Stick.”
“All right.” Stick seated himself behind the counter near the window,leaned his chair back and opened his book. “Say, Rus, how much longerdo you think we can hold out if we don’t do any more business thanwe’ve been doing?”
Russell stopped at the door and leaned across to speak in a voice solowered that it would not reach the rather prominent ears of Mr. J.Warren Pulsifer. “About three weeks, Stick,” he said soberly. “Butwe’re going to begin to sell things long before that, so don’t get thecrêpe out yet. You wait and see, Stick!”
“I’ll wait, all right,” grumbled Stick as the other hurried out, “butI’m sure of one thing, and that is I wish
I’d never let him get me intothis blamed partnership!”
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