Right End Emerson

“Collects a good deal, too,” answered Jimmy, continuing toward the door.

Mr. Pulsifer pretended to be affected by the dust and coughed delicately. “It’s bad for the flowers,” he said querulously. “I’d rather you didn’t do it, my boy.”

He coughed again and went back to his wire enclosure. Being called “my boy” grated on Jimmy and he leaned on the handle of his broom and favored Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer with a malignant stare. Then he finished his job, placed the now almost useless broom back in the dim corner, washed his hands, dried them on his breeches for want of other means and started after his coat.

“Please close the back door if you’re through,” said Mr. Pulsifer drearily. “There’s a draft.”

Jimmy obeyed. When he had his coat on again he stationed himself behind the small show-case and looked into the street. After a while that occupation palled and he pulled a box down from a shelf and removed the lid. It was empty. So was the next one. So were all boxes in that tier. Jimmy grinned and tried the next pile. He was more fortunate. Three gray sweaters rewarded him. He took one out, examined it, held it before him and shook his head.

“Too small,” he muttered. The others were too small also. He put the garments back and returned the box to its place. Then he surveyed the goods in the window. Raising his eyes, he saw two boys doing the same thing from beyond the glass. They weren’t Academy fellows, nor, since the hour was now nine o’clock, could they be high school fellows. Yet they were well dressed and appeared to have plenty of time on their hands. In age they were evidently about sixteen years. Their gazes were set on the tennis racket and they were discussing it seriously. Jimmy could see their lips moving, but could hear no sounds. After a moment he withdrew from sight and went swiftly to the doorway. There he stepped just outside and leaned a shoulder negligently against the frame. The two boys were still admiring and discussing. Jimmy started to whistle, his gaze set across the street on Whitson’s Blue Front Pharmacy. The sound drew the boys’ attention and at the same instant Jimmy turned his eyes their way. Jimmy had a winning smile, and now he used it. The nearer of the two boys smiled back. The other drew away as though to continue his journey along the street.

“Come on in, fellows, and let me show you some things,” invited Jimmy. “I’m looking for something to do.”

“We were just – looking,” murmured the nearer youth.

“Sure!” responded Jimmy heartily. “Come on inside and look. You don’t need to buy anything. Let me show you a tennis racket, maybe, or a sweater.” He drew back invitingly. There was low-voiced colloquy and the two followed hesitantly inside. Jimmy reached the back of the counter by the simple expedient of placing one hand thereon and vaulting it. That seemed to put the visitors more at their ease, and one of them laughed and said:

“Say, how much is that tennis racket in the window?”

“That one?” Jimmy reached over the curtain and brought the racket into view, as he did so reading the tag attached to the handle. “Have a slant at it,” he invited, handing it to the questioner. “That’s a nice racket. One of Proctor and Farnham’s. You won’t find another one of those in this town.” He might have added “or in this store,” but he refrained.

“Never heard of that make,” said the more reticent boy.

“What?” Jimmy was surprised, but politely so. “One of the best, if not the best. Ever see Williams play?”

“I have,” assented the first speaker, “but I didn’t notice what sort of a racket he used.”

“You have a look the next time,” advised Jimmy, wondering just what racket Williams did wield. “How do you like the feel of that? Corking balance, eh? That handle gives a nice firm grip, too. I’d like to own that myself.” This was no more than the truth, although the desire of possession was but a minute old.

“What did you say the price was?”

“Price? Oh, six-twenty-five. That’s a special price, too. You see, we have the agency for the P. and F. goods here and we’re selling very low to introduce them. That racket would sell for seven dollars in New York, I suppose.”

The boy nodded agreement. “Yes, I dare say it would.” He turned to his companion. “I like it better than Carty’s,” he said, “don’t you?”

The second youth took the implement and subjected it to a minute and sustained inspection. Finally he balanced it across a finger. Then he stepped back and swung it mightily through the air, smashing an imaginary ball through the doorway. Then he handed it back, and Jimmy heard plainly the sigh that accompanied the action. The boy nodded soberly but convincingly. “It’s a corker,” he declared.

The intending purchaser of a racket glowed. It is always satisfying to have one’s judgment upheld. He swung the racket himself slowly and looked admiringly at it. At last he laid it on the counter, and Jimmy’s heart fell. “I like it all right,” said the youth, “but that’s more than I want – more than I meant to pay for one.”

“That so? Well, you can’t get much of a racket these days for less than six dollars,” replied Jimmy. “You fellows know what the fancy ones fetch; eight, nine – more if you want to pay it.” Jimmy fondled the tightly-stretched strings admiringly. “That racket would last three hard seasons, I’ll bet, without restringing. You don’t see finer gut than that very often. I like the way it’s reënforced there, too, don’t you? That small gut strengthens the racket without making it dead.”

The two boys nodded in unison and in silence. Two pairs of eyes were following Jimmy’s pointing finger absorbedly. At last: “I can lend you a dollar,” said the reticent youth in low tones. The other turned eagerly, then shook his head.

“I oughtn’t to pay more than five,” he said virtuously but sadly. Jimmy drew a breath of relief. He was, he knew, about to make a sale, his first sale! He drew a caressing hand along the handle, from the black-and-gold diamond trade-mark and the word “Runner-Up” to the soft brown leather band at the end. The tempted one followed the gesture, thrilling to it. Jimmy looked up and spoke at the psychological moment.

“Are you high school fellows?” he asked.

“No.”

“Because, if you were, I could give you the regular high school discount of five per cent. That would make it cost you – let me see – yes, five-ninety-four.”

“We’re Mount Millard fellows,” said one of the boys.

Jimmy pricked up his ears at that. “Mount Millard! Is that so? What sort of a football team have you got over there this year?”

“Pretty good, I guess. Not so good as last year’s, maybe, but – ”

“Hope not!” laughed Jimmy. “You beat us badly last year. How do you fellows happen to be so far from home?” Mount Millard was at Warren, and Warren was some eighteen miles from Alton.

“We came over to go to the dentist’s,” the boy explained. “There isn’t a decent one in Warren.”

“Nor anything else,” mourned his companion.

“Except the school,” said Jimmy smilingly.

“Sure, the school’s all right, but there aren’t any decent stores there. It’s a hole that way.”

“Where do your crowd buy your athletic supplies, then?”

“Oh, one of the druggists keeps a few things. Generally he sends away for them.”

“How long did it take you to get over here?” Jimmy asked.

“About twenty-five minutes, I guess. We came in an automobile with a man who lives there. It takes about forty minutes by the trolley.”

“Uh-huh,” responded Jimmy thoughtfully. “Don’t see why you fellows can’t do your shopping over here.”

“Well, it isn’t worth while, I guess. We manage to get most everything we want, one way or another.”

“Rackets like this one?” asked Jimmy, smiling.

The boy shook his head, smiling, too.

“Tell you what I’ll do,” announced Jimmy. “We give a ten per cent discount to Alton fellows and I don’t see why we shouldn’t give the same to Mount Millard. You may have that racket for five dollars and sixty-two cents. All I ask is that you tell fellows where you bought it and that if they’ll take the trouble to come over here – or send over, if they like – we’ll treat them white and give them ten per cent discount from the regular price. What do you say?”

The boy hesitated, but the space of that hesitation was so brief as to be almost negligible. “I’ll take it!” he said crisply.

When they were gone, hurrying off to their appointment at the nearby dentist’s, Jimmy smiled proudly as he took out a pen and began to figure on a piece of wrapping paper. “‘b.j.t.,’” he murmured. “That’s 6, 5, 0. I was only a quarter of a dollar out of the way. All right. Now, ten per cent off that leaves – let’s see – yes, five-eighty-five.” He counted the money on the counter: a five dollar bill and sixty-two cents in change. Then he figured once more. “I owe twenty-three cents,” he muttered, and found the amount in his pocket and added it to the sum on the counter. Then he reached beneath for the cigar box and swept the proceeds into it, with an air of intense satisfaction not at all marred by the fact that the sale of the tennis racket, because he had translated the price-tag’s inscription erroneously, had cost him personally twenty-three cents!

That transaction satisfactorily completed, Jimmy went, whistling, back to the doorway to again play the rôle of the watchful spider. The tune he whistled evidently did not please Mr. J. Warren Pulsifer who had left his cage and was listlessly arranging a bunch of asparagus fern in the wax-papered bottom of a long card-board box. As he worked he shot impatient, even indignant glances at the unconcerned Jimmy, who, not realizing the pain he was inflicting on the florist’s nerves, went heedlessly and blithely on. It is just possible that, even had he realized the discomfort his melody was causing, he would have continued it, for Mr. Pulsifer didn’t stand very high with Jimmy.

Others came and looked into the window, some interestedly, some carelessly, and all ultimately passed by. The better part of an hour passed. The sunlight became very warm, and Jimmy looked longingly across the street toward the screen door of the Blue Front Pharmacy from behind which came the hiss of carbonated water. Jimmy wanted a cooling drink very much. But duty held him sternly at his post. If, he warned himself, he were to cross the street even for a scant three minutes some one might enter the store in his brief absence and, finding none to wait on him, go away again. Besides that – and Jimmy glanced at his watch – Rus Emerson had promised to run over at ten to see how he was getting on, and it certainly wouldn’t do to be missing when Rus arrived! Tiring of watching the street, Jimmy went back behind the counter. There was no chair there, which he thought showed a sad want of interest, on the part of his employers, in his comfort, but he found that it was possible to squeeze a scant portion of his anatomy against the boxes on the lowest shelf and maintain his position there by bracing his feet against the edge of the counter. He had just got himself satisfactorily settled when the doorway was darkened and an anxious voice hailed him above the tramp of hurrying footsteps.

“Where’s the tennis racket?” called Russell anxiously.

Jimmy dropped his feet and came upright very promptly. “Tennis racket?” he repeated. “The tennis racket? If you mean – ”

“I mean the one in the window,” interrupted Russell excitedly. “It’s gone!”

“Oh, that!” replied Jimmy casually. He brushed an invisible speck from a sleeve and smiled boredly. “We sold that.”

CHAPTER XIV

JIMMY’S DAY

True to his word, Steve Gaston used Russell more gingerly on Tuesday, and Russell, who was still aching in many places, was grateful. Just the same, he was not entirely satisfied when, after a twenty-minute practice line-up between the two scrub squads, the second crossed the field to the first team gridiron and he made the discovery that it was Tierney who was to play right end. It takes more than a few pains to reconcile your enthusiastic football player to the bench – or, in this case, the sod. And yesterday’s short taste of the game had reawakened all of Russell’s old ardor. But he wasn’t to be quite neglected, for in the middle of the second twelve-minute period of battle Tierney was laid low, with every bit of breath eliminated from his body, and Gaston sent a quick call across the field for Russell. Back in the game, facing the redoubtable Captain Proctor or warily watching Crocker, at left end on the enemy team, Russell forgot his aches and entered lustily into the fray. Crocker proved a troublesome opponent that afternoon, for the first was trying out a “bunch forward” in which, when the play was made to the left, Crocker and Harmon and Browne participated, or sought to. Russell, aided by Reilly, had an anxious and breathless time of it. It is to their credit, though, that the “bunch” succeeded but twice and then on the other side of the field. First scored but once to-day, and only after a blocked kick on the scrub’s thirty-six yards, when Putney, the first team right tackle, grabbed up the bouncing pigskin and marvelously dashed through half the enemy forces and planted it behind the line. The second had two tries at goal from the field, and Kendall missed both. On the whole, however, the second was fairly well satisfied with the afternoon, and even Gaston looked as though he spied a glint of hope in the clouds of adversity.

That evening Russell’s thoughts turned wistfully toward a nice clean cot in the school infirmary, and every time he moved he groaned either in spirit or very audibly, depending on whether or not he was alone. Yet life held its cheering aspects, for Stick had jubilantly reported three sales during the afternoon, which, combined with Jimmy’s sale of the tennis racket, brought the day’s business up to the colossal sum of thirteen dollars and eighty-three cents, a sum hitherto never even approached. Jimmy came in after supper and the three talked the matter over in detail and with much enthusiasm. Stick forgot to be pessimistic and swung to the other extreme. His sales had been to high school fellows, and he had discovered that there were two hundred and twenty-two of them in this year’s enrollment and proceeded to prove, to his own satisfaction at least, that the high school students were due to enrich the firm of Emerson and Patterson to the tune of one dollar and eighty-seven cents, net, every day until the middle of next June.

“I guess,” said Russell when that fact had been thoroughly demonstrated by the very earnest Stick, “that that advertisement we put in the high school paper fetched those fellows. It might be a good plan to keep it running.”

But Stick didn’t see that. Advertising cost a heap of money, and now that the ball had been started rolling there wasn’t any sense in going on with it. “Those fellows will tell other fellows,” he asserted, “and that’s the best sort of advertising there is.”

“We are advertised by our loving friends,” quoted Jimmy.

Russell agreed to discontinue the high school advertisement, but he was firm for going on with the one in The Doubleay, and Stick dubiously agreed to that wasteful course. Jimmy described once more with great gusto the details concerning the sale of the tennis racket – they laughingly referred to it as “the” racket, since it had been the only one in stock – and predicted that much trade would accrue from Mount Millard School as a result of his brilliant acumen.

“We might,” began Russell, “put an ad. in their paper – ” But Stick’s unhappy frown cut him short, and he dropped the subject and turned back to Jimmy. “You keep talking about six and a quarter,” he said perplexedly. “You mean six and a half, don’t you?”

“Eh? Oh, the price of it! Yes, yes, six and a half. I was thinking about the discount, I guess.”

“But the discount brought it to five-eighty-five.”

“Yes, well – you see, I’m an awful ass at figures,” answered Jimmy desperately. Not for worlds would he have had Russell know that he had mulcted himself of that twenty-three cents!

“Well, I don’t know what you think about it, Stick,” said Russell, “but I believe Jimmy has brought us luck!”

And Stick, rather unwillingly, agreed.

And as time went on that conviction strengthened with Russell. By the end of that week business had picked up enormously at the Sign of the Football. There had come a letter from Mount Millard ordering “one of those rakets like George Titus bought from you resently,” and as the money was enclosed Russell didn’t find it incumbent on him to criticize the spelling. High school boys were frequent visitors in the afternoons. They didn’t always buy, but those who didn’t spread the news and others came in their places. Another football had found its way to the Academy, and more and more Altonians were learning to enter under the alluring sign rather than to proceed a few doors further to the more pretentious House of Crocker. All this was vastly cheering to Russell and to Stick, and hardly less so to Jimmy, who, if not one of the firm, was nevertheless fully as interested in the success of the business as either of the others. Sid Greenwood had dropped in one morning when Russell was there and had looked and talked and pored over catalogues, and it was already an assured fact that the Sign of the Football was to have the patronage of the Basket Ball Team. And Bob Coolidge had broadly hinted but a few days later that it would be a good plan for Russell to put in a few sample hockey sticks and skates and so on; and Russell had duly ordered. Ordering was a regular daily performance now. Fellows were very good-natured about waiting a day or so, which was certainly fortunate, for only occasionally as yet did the store have just what was wanted! Russell or Stick or Jimmy would open an empty box, out of sight of the customer, frown, put it back, open a second and then shake his head. “Sorry, but we haven’t your size,” he would announce apologetically, or, “We’ve sold the last one.” Always, though, such a remark was invariably followed promptly by a reassuring: “They’re on order and will be along to-morrow. If you don’t mind dropping in about half-past four it’ll be here.” The New York train that carried the noon mail and express reached Alton at four. It took only fifteen or twenty minutes to get the goods from the post office or express company, and at four-thirty the customer went away contentedly. There was a slim black-covered book behind the counter and into this the orders went, and some time before six o’clock Russell would take himself to the telephone office and call up the New York dealer. Seldom did the dealer disappoint him.

Money was coming in now, but money was also going out, and the balance in the firm’s name at the bank was growing very slowly. Stick frowned often and darkly at the size of the orders that were despatched to the city and still more darkly at the checks drawn in settlement for them. But even Stick’s economical brain couldn’t find any way of selling goods without ordering them or of ordering them without ultimately paying for them. Meanwhile Jimmy was becoming a salesman of ability, to say nothing of poise. Jimmy had a way of selling a nose-guard as though it were a diamond set in platinum, and no purchaser of so small an item as a tennis ball went away without feeling that he had been treated like a person of importance and had somehow unintentionally managed to get the best of the transaction.

Russell’s aches left him gradually and by the end of that week he had fairly beaten out Tierney for the position at the right end of the second team line. The first team found their daily opponent a harder and harder proposition, and on Friday, for the first time, the scrimmage ended without a score for either side. To be sure, only one twelve-minute period was played, but even so —

The big team made its first trip away from home the next day and played Lorimer Academy. Lorimer had last year held Alton to a 3 to 3 tie, and an easy contest was neither expected nor found. At the end of the first half the opponents were even, with a touchdown and goal each. In spite of the story told by the score, Alton had showed rather better work, and the ball had, save for one brief and regrettable period, remained in Lorimer territory. The regrettable period had occurred at the beginning of the game, when, receiving the ball on the kick-off, Lorimer had brought it back to Alton’s forty-one yards. That unexpected feat had quite nonplused the visitors and during the next series of plays they showed that it had, for two gains had been made through the left of their line for a first down on the thirty-yard line. From there, following an attempt at Putney that yielded a scant stride, Lorimer threw forward to the fifteen-yard line where an unwatched half-back caught and, although chased down by Harley McLeod, managed to fall across the last line mark just inside the boundary. There was some discussion as to whether the runner had not gone out before he got the ball over, but the officials gave him the benefit of the doubt. Lorimer kicked the goal easily.

After that Alton had pulled herself together, quickly wrested the pigskin from the enemy and taken the offensive. There was, though, no score for her until the second period was well along. Then a long, hard march from the center of the field to Lorimer’s eighteen yards culminated in a series of smashing attacks on the enemy’s left by Harmon and Moncks, and on the seventh play the ball went over. Captain Proctor kicked the goal.

When the third quarter started Lorimer showed the benefit of the rest and, possibly, of the coach’s tuition. She kicked off to the Gray-and-Gold and her ends spilled Ned Richards on his ten-yard line. After two running plays that failed to advance, Alton punted to Lorimer’s forty. Lorimer pulled a trick play that went for twelve yards around the opponent’s left end. A jab at the center was wasted and her quarter punted diagonally to Alton’s eight yards where Harmon gathered in the ball but was forced outside after a few strides. The pigskin was too near home for comfort, and Ned Richards stepped aside in favor of Browne on second down and Browne punted to midfield. Again Lorimer tried a quarter-back kick and again gained. Ned Richards, waiting for the ball to bound over the goal line for a touchback, saw it change its mind erratically and start back up the field. He fell on it finally near the five-yard line, with, by that time, most of the Lorimer forwards hovering about him.

Alton decided to kick on first down, and Browne stepped back behind the goal posts. Nichols passed low and the full-back punt was necessarily hurried. The ball sailed high in the air and descended near the twenty-yard line, and the Lorimer back who caught it very carefully stepped outside, since there was no chance for an advance. The pigskin was stepped in and Lorimer found herself in the fortunate position of being in possession of the ball on first down on the enemy’s nineteen yards. A fake attack to the left, with left half running to the right took the ball to the center of the field, although for no gain. Lorimer prepared for a placement kick from close to the thirty yards, but the pigskin was taken by quarter through Stimson for two. Again, on third down, the same preparations were carefully gone through with, and this time the ball went back to the kicker, instead of the holder, and then was hurled through the air to where, one foot over the goal line, an end had stationed himself. It was a pretty pass, well concealed, well thrown and well caught, and although Harmon brought down the catcher promptly the touchdown was accomplished. Again Lorimer kicked the goal.

Alton was chagrined and rather angry. It was very evident that, since her defense against the opponent’s forward passing game was not good enough, the opponent must not be allowed again within scoring distance of the goal. It was extremely trying, extremely exasperating to be twice scored on by a team who was plainly unable to gain consistently by rushing! Coach Cade seized the interim following the goal to remove Crocker from left end and to substitute Rhame and to put Johnson at right tackle in place of Putney who was showing the battle. The third period ended in a punting duel between Browne, for Alton, and Snow, for Lorimer, and when the teams changed sides it was Alton’s ball on her thirty-four yards.

There was then a slight advantage in the possession of the south goal, for a breeze had arisen since the beginning of the half and was blowing, at moments quite strongly, toward the other end of the field. Austen had replaced Harmon, and to Jimmy was handed the task of using that breeze to work the team’s way inside the enemy’s first defenses. As a prelude, Moncks took the ball and managed to batter through left guard for four yards. Then Jimmy punted and, getting height, saw the breeze take a hand in his effort and add a good ten yards to the kick. Rhame was on the catcher almost before the ball had landed in his arms. Lorimer tried two attempts outside tackle and then punted in turn. But Alton had gained nearly ten yards on the exchange, and, after a first down that netted barely a yard gain, Jimmy again stepped back and, the Gray-and-Gold line holding well, punted with his customary deliberateness and again got more than fifty yards. This time Lorimer ran the pigskin back across one white line before she was stopped. Lorimer recognized the futility of pitting her punter against Alton’s in the circumstances, but, with her back to her goal, there was no help for it after two desperate rushes had been stopped for five yards, and again the ball sailed off. This time the kick was weak and Appel, who had just relieved Richards, caught it on Lorimer’s forty-seven yards and, feinting and twirling, cut across the field with it, found open territory for a moment and sped along to the thirty-five before his meteoric career was stopped.