We had a great time in Boston. In the evening we went to see "Pollyanna" and I told Betty I had fallen in love with Patricia Collinge.

"I'll get jealous," she said, and squeezed my arm.

When we reached the city I called on Bates & Hotchkin, ordered some goods, and told them about the sale. I had a talk with Mr. Peck, the credit man who called on me the time I had had trouble paying my bills.

"That was fine," he said, "but pretty risky work—pretty risky work. You succeeded with it all right this time, but next time I wouldn't risk so much on one sale.

"By the way," he asked, "how much did you sell during the period of the sale, other than the reduced-price goods, or does that $1,517.00 include the sale of regular goods as well?"

"Oh, no," I replied. "That represents the money we took in from the goods which were reduced. I haven't figured yet what the sales for general goods were the first three days of this week, but I know that last week we sold $824.00 worth of goods, so that we had a sale on general goods of $320.00. Our sale really helped rather than hindered our general turn-over."

"Splendid," he said. "To what do you attribute mostly the success of the sale?""Well, I don't know. But I do know that the enthusiasm of my fellows helped a lot, and the help I got from Fellows of the Flaxon Advertising Company. In fact, I think everybody had something to do with it. I know Mrs. Black did," turning around to Betty.

"I usually find," said Mr. Peck, "that, whether it's success or failure, there's a woman at the bottom of it."

The next morning I went to see Mr. Barker and presented the card which Mr. Sirle had given me. Barker had a fine, big store on Summit Street. I rather expected to get just an ordinary, formal reception, for I figured that he must be a very busy man. To my surprise, he gave me a lot of time. He was a most interesting man. I apologized for taking up his time, saying:

"I mustn't keep you, Mr. Barker, for you are such a busy man and have a lot of things to attend to."

"Oh, no, indeed, Mr. Black," he said. "I always figure that the head of a business should always have plenty of time on his hands. I arrange my work so that I can go any time I wish to have a round at the links. I believe one of the earmarks of a true executive is his ability to slam down the lid of his desk—that is, assuming he is so old-fashioned as to have a roll-top desk—beastly things, they are. I think a roll-top desk is an invention of the devil to induce lazy people to shove work into pigeon holes instead of doing it! Roll-top desks are one of my pet aversions. As I was saying, I think one of the earmarks of a real executive is his ability to leave his business at any time and know that it will run safely. An executive must reduce work to routine as much as possible. He must do the thinking and let others do the doing. It is easy enough to get people to do things when you tell them what to do. I remember," he said, reminiscently, "hearing a speaker once say that the value of a man, from his neck down, was limited to $2.50 a day, but, from his neck up, there was no limit to his value. Now, an executive uses his body from his neck up, to plan work for other fellows to do with their bodies below the neck."

"But, of course," I said, "you've a big business here. You can hire plenty of fellows to do all you want."

"True," he said, "but remember, it was not always a big business; and, however small your business may be, you can plan to let others do the less important work, and keep the more important work for yourself. Of course, the most important job any retailer has is to buy right, and to plan his sales policies and methods and advertising."

Mr. Barker's desk was on a kind of mezzanine floor, from which he could look all over the store, and while he was talking I noticed that his eyes constantly roved over it.

At one time he suddenly broke off in the middle of a sentence and pressed a button on his desk. A stenographer appeared and he asked her to send Riske to him. In a few minutes a young fellow appeared and stood before his desk.

"Jim," said Mr. Barker, "you had a customer a few minutes ago who wanted some automobile accessories."

"Yes, sir," replied Jim.

"When he came into the store he stood just inside the doorway, and kept glancing sidewise at his car?""Yes, sir."

"Well, instead of going to him, you looked at him and waited for him to come over to you. Now, never do that again, for it is bad salesmanship. We want to express to our customers by our words and actions that we are glad to have them visit our store, and that we approach them more than half way. Now, for us to stand still and make a customer walk right up to us at the end of the counter is not expressing that attitude, is it?"

Jim was silent.

"Whenever a customer comes into the store, always go to him. The very act of walking toward the customer makes him feel more at ease; and incidentally, when you get a customer like the one you had, don't ask him to come to the rear of the store as you did, for he was nervous about his car. Instead, you should bring the article to him—that is, if it is some small article that can be easily brought.

"Now, this is apparently only a little matter, but you know most big things are made up of a bunch of little ones, aren't they? If you'll just remember that, Jim, I'll be much obliged to you."

And with this kindly admonition he dismissed Jim.

I wished I had the ability to give helpful suggestions like that.

I made some remark to Mr. Barker about that, and he said:

"If my salespeople are not successful, I am to blame, not they. I am in my position because I have, or am supposed to have, more knowledge of business and selling than they, and it is up to me to pass my knowledge out to them, and to help them to become better salesmen. I believe that, if ever a man wants to find out who is responsible for his failure, he should look at the fellow he shaves in the morning."

"But come," he said, putting on his hat, "won't you come and have lunch with me?"

And this big, busy retail merchant, who was not too big or too busy to take me, a little dealer in a small town to lunch, took me over to the Exeter House, where we had an excellent dinner, and a most enjoyable chat; after which he took me over to the association rooms, which I had for some time wanted to visit, where I met some other likeable fellows in the hardware business who happened to be in town.

I wished I could have stayed longer to talk with some of the interesting men there, but I felt we ought to get back to Farmdale; so I tore myself away, feeling, however, that our joy ride had proved to be of practical dollars-and-cents value to me.