The Twenty-Fourth of June: Midsummer's Day

  CHAPTER XII

  BLANKETS

  There was destined to be a still longer break in the work which had beengoing on in Judge Calvin Gray's library than was intended. He and hisassistant had barely resumed their labours after the Christmashouse-party when the Judge was called out of town for a period whoselimit when he left he was unable to fix. He could leave little forRichard to do, so that young man found his time again upon his hands andhimself unable to dispose of it to advantage.

  His mind at this period was in a curious state of dissatisfaction. Eversince the evening of the Christmas dance, when a girl's careless wordhad struck home with such unexpected force he had been as restless anduneasy as a fish out of water. His condition bore as much resemblance tothat of the gasping fish as this: in the old element of life about town,as he had been in the habit of living it, he now had the sensation ofnot being able to breathe freely.

  It was with the intention of getting into the open, both mentally andphysically, that on the second day following the Judge's departureRichard started on a long drive in his car. Beyond a certain limit heknew that the roads were likely to prove none too good, though thewinter had thus far been an open one and there was little chance of hisencountering blocking snowdrifts "up State." He took no one with him. Hecould think of no one with whom he cared to go.

  As he drove his mind was busy with all sorts of speculations. In hishurt pride he had said to a girl: "If I can't make you think differentlyof me it won't be for lack of will." That meant--what did it mean? Thathe had recognized the fact that she despised idlers--and that young richmen who spent a few hours, on an average of five days of the week, inassisting elderly gentlemen bereft of their eyesight in looking up oldrecords, did not thereby in her estimation remove themselves from theclass of those who do nothing in the world but attend to the spending oftheir incomes.

  What should he do--how prove himself fit to deserve her approval?Unquestionably he must devote himself seriously to some seriousoccupation. All sorts of ideas chased one another through his mind inresponse to this stimulus. What was he fitted to do? He had a certainfacility in the use of the pen, as he had proved in the service of JudgeCalvin Gray. Should he look for a job as reporter on one of the citydailies? He certainly could not offer himself for any post higher thanthat of the rawest scribe on the force; he had had no experience. Thethought of seeking such a post made his lip curl with the absurdity ofthe notion. They would make a society reporter of him; it would be thefirst idea that would occur to them. It was the only thing for whichthey would think him fit!

  The thing he should like to do would be to travel on some interestingcommission for his grandfather. On what commission, for instance? Thepurchasing of rare works of art for the picture-gallery of the greatstore? No mean exhibition it was they had there. But he had not thetraining for such a commission; he would be cheated out of hand when itcame to buying! They sent skilled buyers on such quests.

  He thought of rushing off to the far West and buying a ranch. That was afit and proper thing for a fellow like himself; plenty of rich men'ssons had done it. If she could see him in cowboy garb, rough-clad,sunburnt, muscular, she would respect him then perhaps. There would beno more flinging at him that he was a cotillion leader! How he hated theterm!

  The day was fair and cold, the roads rather better than he had expected,and by luncheon-time he had reached a large town, seventy miles awayfrom his own city, where he knew of an exceptionally good place toobtain a refreshing meal. With this end in view, he was making more thanordinary village speed when disaster befell him in the shape of a breakin his electric connections. Two blocks away from the hotel he sought,the car suddenly went dead.

  While he was investigating, fingers blue with cold, a voice he knewhailed him. It came from a young man who advanced from the doorway of astore, in front of which the car had chanced to stop. "Something wrong,Rich?"

  Richard stood up. He gripped his friend's hand cordially, glancing up atthe sign above the store as he did so.

  "Mighty glad to see you, Benson," he responded. "I didn't realize I'dstopped in front of your father's place of business."

  Hugh Benson was a college classmate. In spite of the difference betweentheir respective estates in the college world, the two had been rathergood friends during the four years of their being thrown together. Sincegraduation, however, they had seldom met, and for the last two yearsRichard Kendrick had known no more of his former friend than that thegood-sized dry-goods store, standing on a prominent corner in the largetown through which he often motored without stopping, still bore thename of Hugh Benson's father.

  When the car was running again Benson climbed in and showed Richard theway to his own home, where he prevailed on his friend to remain forlunch with himself and his mother. Richard learned for the first timethat Benson's father had died within the last year.

  "And you're going on with the business?" questioned Richard, as the twolingered alone together in Benson's hall before parting. The talk duringthe meal had been mostly of old college days, of former classmates, andof the recent history of nearly every mutual acquaintance except that ofthe speakers themselves.

  "There was nothing else for me to do when father left us," Bensonresponded in a low tone. "I'm not as well adapted to it as he was, butI expect to learn."

  "I remember you thought of doing graduate work along scientific lines.Did you give that up?"

  "Yes. I found father needed me at home; his health must have beenfailing even then, though I didn't realize it. I've been in the storewith him ever since. I'm glad I have--now."

  "It's not been good for you," declared Richard, scrutinizing hisfriend's pale and rather worn face critically. It would have seemed tohim still paler and more worn if he could have seen it in contrast withhis own fresh-tinted features, ruddy with his morning's drive. "Bettercome with me for an afternoon spin farther up State, and a good dinnerat a place I know. Get you back by bedtime."

  "There's nothing I'd like better, Rich," said Benson longingly; "but--Ican't leave the store. I have rather a short force of clerks--and on asunny day--"

  "You'd sell more goods to-morrow," urged Richard, feeling increasinglyanxious to do something which might bring light into a face he had notremembered as so sombre.

  But Benson shook his head again. Afterward, in front of the store towhich the two had returned in the car, Richard could only give hisfriend a warm grip of the hand and an urgent invitation to visit him inthe city.

  "I suppose you come down often to buy goods," he suggested. "Or do yousend buyers? I don't know much about the conduct of business in a townlike this--or much about it at home, for that matter," he owned. "ThoughI'm not sure I'm proud of my ignorance."

  "It doesn't matter whether you know anything about it or not, ofcourse," said Benson, looking up at him with a queer expression ofwistfulness. "No, I'm my own buyer. And I don't buy of a great,high-grade firm like yours; I go to a different class of fellows for mystuff."

  Richard drove on, thinking hard about Benson. What a pity for a fellowof twenty-six or seven to look like that, careworn and weary. Hewondered whether it was the loss of his father and the probablysorrowful atmosphere at home that accounted for the look in Benson'seyes, or whether his business was not a particularly successful one. Herecalled that the one careless glance he had given the windows ofBenson's store had brought to his mind the fleeting impression thatvillage shopkeepers had not much art in the dressing of their windows asa means of alluring the public.

  As he drove on he felt in his pockets for a cigar and found his caseunexpectedly empty. He turned back to a drugstore, went in and suppliedhimself from the best in stock--none too good for his fastidious taste.

  "What's your best dry-goods shop here?" he inquired casually.

  "Artwell & Chatford's the best--now," responded the druggist, glancingacross the street, where a sign bearing those names met the eye."Chaffee Brothers has run 'em a close second since Benson's dropped outof the competition. Benson's us
ed to be the best, but it's fallen waybehind. Look at Artwell's window display over there and see the reason,"he added, pointing across the street with the citizen's pride in asuccessful enterprise in no way his own rival.

  "Gorgeous!" responded Richard, eying an undoubtedly eye-catchingarrangement of blankets of every hue and quality piled about a centrefigure consisting of a handsome brass bed made up as if for occupancy,the carefully folded-back covers revealing immaculate and downy blanketswith pink borders, the whole suggestive of warmth and comfort throughoutthe most rigorous winter season.

  "Catchy--on a day like this!" suggested the druggist, with a chuckle."I'll admit they gave me the key for my own windows."

  Richard's gaze followed the other's glance and rested on piles ofscarlet flannel chest-protectors, flanked by small brass tea-kettleswith alcohol lamps beneath.

  "We carry a side line of spirit-lamp stuff," explained the dealer. "Itsells well this time of year. Got to keep track of the popular thing.Afternoon teas are all the go among the women of this town now. Thehardware's the only other place they can get these--and they don't beginto keep the variety we do."

  Richard congratulated the dealer on his window. Lingering by it, hishand on the door, he said:

  "I noticed Benson's as I came by, and I see now the force of what yousay about window display. I'm not sure I can tell what was in theirwindows."

  "Nor anybody else," declared the druggist, chuckling, "unless he wentwith a notebook and made an inventory. Since the old man died last yearthe windows have been a hodgepodge of stuff that attracts nobody. It'smerely an index to the way the place is running behind. Young Bensondoesn't know how to buy nor how to sell; he'll never succeed. The storebegan to go down when the old man got too feeble to take the wholeresponsibility. Hugh began to overstock some departments and understockothers. It's not so much lack of capital that'll be responsible forHugh's failure when it comes--and I guess it's not far off--as it islack of business experience. Why, he's got so little trade he's turnedoff half his salespeople; and you know that talks!"

  It did indeed. It talked louder now in the light of the druggist'sshrewd commentaries than it had when Benson had spoken of his "shortforce." Richard wondered just how short it was, that the proprietorcould not venture to leave for even a few hours.

  He drove on thoughtfully. He wanted to go back and look those windowsover again, wanted to go through the whole store, but recognized thatthough he could have done this when he first arrived, he could not goback and do it now without exciting his friend's suspicion that sympathywas his motive.

  He turned about at a point far short of the one he had intended toreach, and made record time back to the city, impelled by an odd wish hecould hardly explain, to go by the windows of the great departmentstores of Kendrick & Company and examine their window displays. Since hewas ordinarily accustomed to select any other streets than those uponwhich these magnificent places of custom were situated, merely becausehe not only had no interest in them but a positive distaste for seeinghis own name emblazoned--though ever so chastely--above their princelyportals, it may be understood that an entirely new idea was working inhis brain.

  Speed as he would, however, running the risk as he approached the citystreets of being stopped by some watchful authority for exceeding thelimits, he could not get back to the broad avenue upon which the storesstood before six o'clock. There was all the better chance on thataccount, nevertheless, for examining the windows before which belatedshoppers were still stopping to wonder and admire.

  Well, looking at them with Benson's forlorn windows in his mind as afoil, he saw them as he never had before. What beauty, what originality,what art they showed! And at a time of year when, the holiday seasonpast, it might seem as if there could be no real summons for anybody togo shopping. They were fairly dazzling, some of them, although many ofthem showed only white goods. His car came to a standstill before onegreat plate-glass frame behind which was a representation of asewing-room with several people busily at work. So perfect were thefigures that it hardly seemed as if they could be of wax. One prettygirl was sewing at a machine; another, on her knees, was fitting a frockto a little girl who laughed over her shoulder at a second child who waslooking on. The mother of the family sewed by a drop-light on awork-table. The whole scene was really charming, combining precisely theelement of domesticity with that of accomplishment which strikes the eyeof the average passer as "looking like home," no matter of what sort thehome might be.

  "By heavens! if poor Ben had something like that people wouldn't passhim by for the blanket store," he said to himself; and drove on, stillthinking.

  The next day, at an hour before the morning tide of shopping at Kendrick& Company's had reached the flood, two pretty glove clerks were suddenlytempted into a furtive exchange of conversation at an unoccupied end oftheir counter.

  "Look quick! See the young man coming this way? It's Rich Kendrick."

  "It is? They told me he never came here. Say, but he's the real thing!"

  "I should say. Never saw him so close myself. Wish he'd stop here."

  "Bet you couldn't keep your head if he spoke to you!"

  "Bet I could! Don't you worry; he don't buy his gloves in his owndepartment store. He--"

  "Sh! Granger's looking!"

  There was really nothing about Richard Kendrick to attract attentionexcept his wholesome good looks, for he dressed with exceptionalquietness, and his manner matched his clothes. A floorwalker recognizedhim and bowed, but the elevator man did not know him, and on his way tothe offices he passed only one clerk who could lay claim to a speakingacquaintance with the grandson of the owner.

  But at the office of the general manager he was met by an office boy whoknew and worshipped him from afar, and in five minutes he was closetedwith that official, who gave him his whole attention.

  "Mr. Henderson, I wish you could give me"--was the substance ofRichard's remarks--"somebody who would go up to Eastman with me and tellme what's the matter with a dry-goods store there that's on the verge offailure."

  The general manager was, to put it mildly, astonished. He was a mightyman of valour himself, so mighty that his yearly salary would have beento the average American citizen a small fortune. The office was one tofill which similar houses had often scoured the country without avail.Other business owners had been forced to remain at the helm long afterhealth and happiness demanded retirement. Among these, Henderson washeld to be so competent a man that Matthew Kendrick was consideredincredibly lucky to keep his hold upon him.

  To Matthew Kendrick's grandson Henderson put a number of pertinentinquiries concerning the store in question which Richard found he couldnot intelligently answer. He flushed a little under the fire.

  "I suppose you think I might have investigated a bit for myself," saidhe. "But that's just what I don't want to do. I want to send a man upthere whom the owner doesn't know; then we can get at things withoutgiving ourselves away."

  The general manager inferred from this that philanthropy, not businessinterest, was at the bottom of young Kendrick's quest and his surprisevanished. The young man was known as kind-hearted and generous; he wasundoubtedly merely carrying out a careless impulse, though he certainlyseemed much in earnest in the doing of it.

  "You might take Carson, assistant buyer for the dress-goods department,with you," suggested Henderson after a little consideration. "He couldprobably give you a day just now. Alger, his head, is back from Londonthis week. Carson's a bright man--in line for promotion. He'll put hisfinger on the trouble without hesitation--if it lies in the lack ofbusiness experience, buying and selling, as you say. I'll send for him."

  In two minutes Richard Kendrick and Alfred Carson were face to face,and an appointment had been made for the following day. Richard tooka liking to the assistant buyer on the spot. He felt as if he wereselecting a competent physician for his friend, and was glad to sendhim a man whose personality was both prepossessing and inspiring ofconfidence.

  As for Carson
, it was an interesting experience for him, too. Hethoroughly enjoyed the seventy-mile drive at the side of the youngmillionaire, who sent his powerful car flying over the frozen roads at apace which made his passenger's face sting. Carson was more accustomedto travel in subways and sleeping-cars than by long motor drives, and bythe time Eastman was reached he was glad that the return drive would bepreceded by a hot luncheon.

  "We won't go past the store," Richard explained, making a detour fromthe main street of the town, regardless of the fact that he forsook agood road for a poor one. "I don't want him to see me to-day."

  He pressed upon his guest the best that the hotel afforded, then senthim to the corner store with instructions to let nothing escape hisattention. "Though I don't need to tell you that," he added with alaugh. "You'll see more in a minute than I should in a month."

  Then he lighted a cigar--from his own case this time, though he strolledin to see his friend the druggist when he had finished it, and bought ofhim various other sundries. He did not venture to mention Benson to-day,but the druggist did. Evidently Benson's imminent failure was the talkof the town, and the regret, as well, of those who were not his rivals.

  "Man can't succeed at a thing he picks up so late, and when he'd ratherdo something else," volunteered the druggist. "Now I began in this shopby sweeping out, mornings, and running errands, delivering goods. Gotinterested--came to be a clerk after a while. Always saw myself makingup dope, compounding prescriptions. Went off to a school ofpharmacy--came back--showed the old man I could look after theprescription business. Finally bought him out. Trained for the tradefrom the cradle as you might say."

  "I wonder if I'm going to be useless," thought Richard, "because I'mnot trained from the cradle. Carson says he began as a wrapper atfifteen. At my age--he looks my age--he's assistant buyer for one ofKendrick & Company's biggest departments, and 'in line for promotion,'as Henderson says. Rich Kendrick, do you think you're in line forpromotion--anywhere? I wonder!"

  He had gone back to the hotel and was impatiently awaiting Carson forsome time before the buyer appeared. Carson came in with a look of greatinterest and eagerness on his face. The assistant buyer had, Richardthought, one of the brightest faces he had ever seen. He was sure he hadasked the right man to diagnose the case of the invalid business, evenbefore Carson began to talk. As the talk progressed he was convinced ofit.

  Yet Carson began at the human, not the business, end of the matter.Richard Kendrick, himself full of concern for his friend Hugh Benson,liked that, too.

  "I never felt sorrier for a man in my life," said Carson. "He shows alot of pluck; he never once owned that the thing was too much for him.But I got him to talking--a little. Didn't need to talk much; the wholeplace was shouting at me--every counter, every showcase. Thunder!"

  "How did you get him to talking?" Richard asked eagerly.

  "Represented myself as an ex-travelling man--the dry-goods line. It'strue enough, if not just the way he took it. Of course he didn't give meany facts about his business, but we discussed present conditions of thetrade pretty well, and he owned that a good many things puzzled him justas much as when he was a little chap and used to listen to his fathergiving orders. What's going to be wanted and how much? When to load upand when to unload? How to catch the public fancy and not get caughtyourself? In short, how to turn over the stock in season and out ofseason--turn it over and get out from under! He knows no more than a manwho can't swim how to keep his head above water. Nice fellow, too; Icould see it in every word he said. He'd be a success in, say, aprofessorship in a college--and not a business college, either."

  "If the place were yours," Richard, alive with interest, put it to him,"now, this minute, what would be the first thing you would do?"

  Carson laughed--not derisively, but like a boy who sees a chance at agame he likes to play. "Have a bonfire, I'd like to say," he vowed. "Butthat wouldn't be good business, and I wouldn't do it if I had thechance--unless there was insurance to cover! And there's money in thestock. Part of it could be got out. But it ought to be got out beforethe moon is old. Then I'd like the fun of stocking up with new lines,new departments, things the town never heard of. I'd make that blanketwindow you told me about look sick. That is," he added modestly, "Ithink I could. Any good general buyer could. I'm a dress-goods manmyself, only I've grown up under Kendrick & Company's roof and I've beenwatching other lines than my own. It interests me--the possibilities ofthat store. Why, the man ought not to fail! He has the best location intown, the biggest windows, the best fixtures, judging by the outside ofthe places I saw as I came along. I looked at the blanket-window place.That's a dark store when you get back a dozen feet. Benson's, being onthe corner, is fairly light to the back door. That counts more than anyother thing about the building itself. And the fellow has his underwearin the brightest spot in the shop and the dress goods in the darkest!His heavy lines by the door and his notions and fancy stuff way backwhere you've got to hunt for them! And his windows--oh, blazes! I wantedto climb up and jump on the mess and then throw it out!"

  Richard drove Carson back to town, his heart afire with longing to dosomething, he did not yet know what. He could not consult Carson aboutthe matter further than to find out from him what was wrong with thebusiness from the standpoint of the customer; why the place did notattract the customer. Details of this phase of the question Carson hadgiven him in plenty, all leading back to the one trouble--Benson had notunderstood how to appeal to the class of custom at his doors. He had notthe right goods, nor the right means of display; he had not the rightsalespeople; in brief, he had nothing, according to Carson, that heought to have, and everything, poor fellow, that he ought not! It was ahard case.

  As to actual business foundations and resources, neither of the youngmen could judge. They had no means of knowing how deeply Benson was indebt, nor what were his assets beyond the visible stock. Yet his fellowshopkeepers considered him on the verge of bankruptcy; they must know.

  "I've enjoyed this trip, Mr. Kendrick," Carson said at parting, "in moreways than I can tell you. If I can be of use to you in any way, call onme, please. I'm honestly interested in your friend Mr. Benson. I'd liketo see him win out."

  "So should I." Richard shook hands heartily. "I've enjoyed the trip,too, Mr. Carson. I never had better company. Thank you for going--andfor teaching me a lot of things I wanted to know."

  As he drove away he was thinking, "Carson's a success; I'm not. Oddthing, that I should find myself envying a chap whose place I couldn'tbe hired to take. I envy him--not exactly his knowledge and skill, buthis being a definite factor, his being a man who carriesresponsibilities and makes good, so that--well, so that he's 'in linefor promotion.' That phrase takes hold of me somehow; I wonder why?Well, the next thing is to see grandfather."

  * * * * *

  Old Matthew Kendrick was alone. His grandson had just left him. He wasmarching up and down his private library. His hands were clasped tightlybehind his back; above his flushed brow his white hair stood erect fromfrequent thrustings of his agitated fingers; even his cravat, slightlyawry, bore witness to his excitement.

  "Gad!" he was saying to himself. "The boy's alive after all! The boy'swaked up! He's taking notice! And the thing that's waked him up is acountry store--by cricky! a country store! I believe I'm dreaming yet!"

  If the citizens of the thriving town of Eastman, almost of a size tocall itself a young city and boast of a mayor, could have heard him theymight not have been flattered. Yet when they remembered that this wasthe owner of a business so colossal that its immense buildings andbranches were to be found in three great cities, they might haveunderstood that to him the corner store of Hugh Benson looked like a toyconcern, indeed. But he liked the look of it, as it had been presentedto his mind's eye that night; no doubt but he liked the look of it!

  "Give him Carson to go up there and manage the business for those twoinfants-in-arms? Gad! yes, go myself and make change at the desk for thenew firm," he
chuckled, "if that would keep Dick interested. But I guesshe's interested enough or he wouldn't have agreed to my ruling that hemust go into the thing himself, not stand off and throw out a rope tohis drowning friend Benson. If young Benson's the man Dick makes himout, it's as I told Dick: he wouldn't grasp the rope. But if Dick goesin after him, that's business. Bless the rascal! I wish his father couldsee him now. Sitting on the edge of my table and talking window-dressingto me as if he'd been born to it, which he was, only he wouldn't accepthis birthright, the proud beggar! Talking about moving one of ourshow-windows up there bodily for a white-goods sale in February; date atrifle late for Kendrick & Company, but advance trade for Eastman,undoubtedly. Says he knows they can start every mother's daughter of 'emsewing for dear life, if they can get their eye on that sewing-roomscene. Well"--he paused to chuckle again--"he says Carson says thatwindow cost us five hundred dollars; but if it did it's cheap at theprice, and I'll make the new firm a present of it. Benson & Company--anda grandson of Matthew Kendrick the Company!"

  He laughed heartily, then paused to stand staring down into the jewelledshade of his electric drop-light as if in its softly blending colouringshe saw the outlines of a new future for "the boy."

  "I wonder what Cal will say to losing his literary assistant," he mused,smiling to himself. "I doubt if Dick's proved himself invaluable, and Ipresume the man he speaks of will give Cal much better service; but Ishall be sorry not to have him going to the Grays' every day; it seemedlike a safe harbour. Well, well, I never thought to find myselfinterested again in the fortunes of a country store. Gad! I can't getover that. The fellow's been too proud to walk down the aisles ofKendrick & Company to buy his silk socks at cost--preferred to pay twoprices at an exclusive haberdasher's instead! And now--he's going tohave a share in the sale of socks that retail for a quarter, five pairsfor a dollar! O Dick, Dick, you rascal, your old grandfather hasn't beenso happy since you were left to him to bring up. If only you'll stick!But you're your father's son, after all--and my grandson; I can't helpbelieving you'll stick!"