Our weekly meetings had certainly cultivated a better spirit among my small staff. Even in the case of Wilkes it had had quite an effect. He was only a boy, but we allowed him to sit in the meetings because I wanted to make him feel that he was part of the organization. Ever since we started them he had been much better in his delivery of parcels. He was more courteous and attentive; he felt he was one of the firm. He was not the slipshod, careless, happy-go-lucky boy he was once, but a careful boy, studying the interests of the business certainly more than we clerks had done when I was at Barlow's. I think that retailers could do a lot to build up self-reliance and self-respect among the boys they have.

At our next Monday meeting the fire was discussed. Jones suggested that we have a big fire sale. At this Wilkes broke in eagerly:

"But what would we have to sell? I thought at a fire sale you had to sell stuff that got damaged by the fire."

There was more wisdom in that remark than he knew.

Jones replied: "Everybody in town knows we've had a fire; but they don't know how bad it was, and we can put in the sale a lot of old stuff we want to get rid of, and get away with it, all right.""Hum," remarked Larsen. "That would be a fake, wouldn't it?"

Here I broke in. "It's a good suggestion, Jones but I don't think we want to have a fire sale. We had no stuff damaged, to speak of, and it would, as Larsen says, be a fake sale, if we had one; and I believe we'll win out in the end by saying and doing nothing that is going to be other than the truth."

Jones was inclined to be sulky at this, and my first impulse was to speak to him sharply; but I remembered, fortunately in time, my previous lesson never to talk to an employee angrily, and furthermore, that this was a directors' meeting, where each was privileged to say what he wished without regard for position. I realized that Jones had made the suggestion in all sincerity, thinking it was to my interest, so I said:

"You know, Jones, that I have made several suggestions that we decided not to adopt, for no one of us knows all the best of it. In some ways that's a good suggestion of yours, and, if we'd had a little more stuff damaged to justify it, I think I'd have been very much tempted to have a fire sale. But, as it is, don't you think we had better exert ourselves in making a big push on perfect Christmas goods, rather than emphasizing damaged goods? You see, if we had a fire sale, some people might hesitate about buying from us for a little while, even after the sale, thinking that we would be trying to sell them fire-damaged goods."

"Well, won't they think that now?" he asked, somewhat mollified.

"By Jove, perhaps they will," I returned. "How would you suggest overcoming that?"

Larsen was about to speak, but I checked him. I wanted to have Jones feeling good-natured again.

"Of course we could advertise it," he said.

"That seems a good, sensible suggestion. All right, we'll advertise that no goods were damaged by the fire."

That removed the last shred of resentment on the part of Jones.

I told Betty about this when I came home, and she exclaimed: "Why, you're a regular Solomon, you are!"

"Explain yourself," I commanded.

"Why, your tact in handling Jones. You'll be a real manager of men, yet, if you go on like that!"

"Huh, that's where I'll differ from Solomon, then. He was a real manager of women only, wasn't he?"

"Now you're getting impudent," and she kissed me.

Well, after we had disposed of the fire sale question, we brought up the matter of whether we should, or should not, sell toys at Christmas time. Larsen was strongly in favor of it, but I was rather against it.

"We've a hardware store," I argued, "and that's a men's shop. Toys are kids' business."

"You say we have a men's store, eh," was Larsen's rejoinder. "More women than men come into the store. Women buy ninety per cent. of all retail goods sold in the country. Why not we get women's and children's trade? Get youngsters coming into the store. When they grow up they come for tools."

Wilkes was strongly in favor of it, but I had an idea that it was so that he could play with the toys. Jones was against it—he thought it undignified.

After an hour's discussion we were just about where we were at the beginning, and the matter was held over until the next meeting. I decided in the meantime to talk it over with Betty, and then I thought to myself: "If I'm going to talk this over with Betty why not get the others to talk it over with their women-folk?" That seemed to me a good idea, and I made the suggestion to the others. So Larsen agreed to talk it over with his wife, Jones with his sweetheart, and Wilkes with his mother.

I had a long talk with Betty and Mother over the toy situation. Betty was for it. Mother was against it. So there we were. What's a poor man to do when opinions are so divided? I decided to wait a while.

Betty made a bully good suggestion, and that was to have the boys up to dinner some night. I had been thinking of that; but then she added: "And have Larsen bring his wife, Jones his young lady and have Wilkes bring his mother."

"Good heavens," I exclaimed, "what is this to be—a gathering of the Amazons? Or are you planning to make a union of you women to run us out of business!"

"Don't try to be funny, boy dear—because, whenever you try it, you fail miserably. You know your humor is very much like an Englishman's—it's nothing to be laughed at!"

"But what's the idea?" I persisted.

"Now you promise you won't laugh if I tell you?"

"Sure," I said, grinning all over my face.

"There you are! You promise with one hand, and grin with the other. Oh, pshaw!" she said, when I laughed. "You know what I mean!"I saw she was getting a little provoked, so I said: "Go ahead, I won't laugh."

She handed me a newspaper clipping in which some big steel man said that, whenever he wanted to hire executives, he always tried to find out something about their home surroundings, in the belief that the home influence, to a big extent, makes or mars a man's business efficiency.

"You see, boy dear," said Betty, "you never saw Jones' girl, and you never saw Mrs. Larsen. Of course, Mrs. Wilkes we do know—we know she used to do washing before she married again. She's a dear body, and I know it would please her to come. And if you please her, she's going to make Jimmie work all the harder."

"I see! You're going to turn into a female gang driver!"

"Now, if you knew Mrs. Larsen, it would perhaps give you more insight into Larsen's character than you have now. You would know what his home influences are, and whether they are helping him or hindering him. And Jones' young lady—she may or may not be a girl who is likely to help him; and if she isn't—"

"If she isn't, I suppose I've got to tell him to change his girl, or fire him! That's a crazy idea!"

"I didn't say that. But, if she isn't the right kind of girl, you can't afford to look upon Jones as a permanency, that's all."

"You're making the suggestion for the best, I know; but I think it's a foolish idea."

"I don't think it's so foolish," interrupted Mother.

There it was! First they had disagreed about the toys, and then, when I disagreed with either of them, they sided together! Well, I finally gave way—I might have done it in the first place and saved the trouble—and I invited the whole bunch of them up on the following Friday night. It seemed to me a risky experiment, but Betty was so keen on it—and I had to admit she was no fool. Anyhow, I didn't think it could do much harm.

When the evening had come, and gone, and they had all left the house, Betty squared herself in front of me, and said:

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?"

Solemnly I replied: "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings—"

"I don't know whether you are the babe, or the suckling; but it's very seldom wisdom cometh forth from you!" she broke in; but her eyes were dancing with delight at the success of the evening—for it certainly had been a success.

Jimmie's mother had kept looking at Betty all night, and whatever Betty said she agreed to. She was a good-hearted soul, who was always quoting "my Jimmie." She had no ideas of her own whatever, and she believed that Betty was a kind of guardian angel. It seemed that some weeks ago Jimmie had had a bad cold, and Betty had noticed it while in the store and had gone across the road and bought some cough lozenges which she gave him. She had forgotten all about it; but ever since then Betty has been on a pedestal in that household. ... Isn't it queer what a little act of kindness like that will lead to?

Jones' girl was named Elsie Perkins. I didn't like the name Elsie; but she was much better than her name. She was a quiet little girl, but had an opinion and will of her own. She worked at the bank and was Blickens' personal stenographer. I never even knew that Jones was acquainted with her! How little the majority of people do know about their employees; and if they only knew more about them, how easy it would be to get better results from them!

That evening certainly resulted in a more friendly feeling among my little staff than ever there was before.

Mrs. Larsen was a very queer woman. When she came in she bristled—do you know what I mean by that? Well, whenever any one said anything to her she bristled all up, as if there was going to be an argument. When she came into the house and Larsen introduced me, I said:

"How do you do, Mrs. Larsen?"

"How do you do, Mr. Black?" she replied sharply, and the way she said it conveyed the idea that she was absolutely on the defensive.

I went into the kitchen, later, while Betty was there, and I said to her:

"What is the matter with Mrs. Larsen?"

"I don't know. Doesn't she act queerly?"

"She doesn't like us for some reason or other."

"Has Larsen ever said anything about it?"

"Never a word."

"Why not tell her how much you think of Larsen, and how lucky you feel to have him as your manager?" suggested Betty.

"I see. Soft-soap the old girl. All right."

I had to hurry back into the room then, because I couldn't leave my guests for long. In a few minutes I was talking to Mrs. Larsen about the hard time we had had when I bought the business. "I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for your husband, Mrs. Larsen. I certainly think I'm lucky to have him, and I know he thinks he's lucky to have you!"

"So you think that you are lucky to have my husband working for you, do you, Mr. Black?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed; he is a mighty fine man, and I think a lot of him, Mrs. Larsen." I spoke with all sincerity.

"Do you know how old my husband is?"

"Why, n-no. How old is he?" I couldn't see any reason for her question, which was asked in the same frigid manner, but I responded with polite interest.

"Fifty-four," was her response.

"Is he that old?" I was floundering, for I felt that I had altogether missed my aim in trying to pacify her.

"Yes, fifty-five next January. ... And after forty years' work he is very valuable to a hardware store—so valuable that he gets twenty dollars a week!"

Hadn't I got my foot into it! "T-that's nothing like your husband's real value, Mrs. Larsen," I stuttered, "b-but you know I've only had the store about six months and I had some very heavy losses at the beginning."

"So my husband should bear your loss, is that it?"

I was getting angry and was about to make some tart rejoinder; but, just as I was about to speak, I felt Betty's hand on my shoulder. She had quietly come into the room and heard Mrs. Larsen's last remark. To my surprise, Betty took over the conversation.

"Just what I was telling Mr. Black," she said sweetly. "I told him that, if he ever expected to get people to work whole-heartedly with him, he would have to let them share in his profits."

"And his losses?" broke in Mrs. Larsen.

"Yes, and his losses. For instance, take the case of Mr. Larsen and Mr. Jones—and Jimmie," she said, looking at the last-named with a twinkle in her eye. "They have all had to bear some of Mr. Black's losses; and it was a case of either sharing the loss or Mr. Black getting some one else to share it, for, if he had paid them what they were worth, he would have failed, and you see then they as well as Mr. Black would have all been out of work. As it is, I really think my husband has turned the corner, although it's only six months since he took over the store. ... And it has been a pretty busy six months, hasn't it, Mr. Larsen?"

"You bet it has," he returned heartily.

"And a pretty happy six months?"

"The happiest I have had in my life!"

"Well, I think," Betty continued, "that we are going to have many more happy months; and one reason we asked you all here was to let you know so; because, you know, Mrs. Larsen, your hubby can't work well for Mr. Black unless he has your help, just the same as Mr. Black can't work well without my help. ... These men are helpless things without us women to cheer them up, aren't they, Mrs. Larsen?"

"That's so," she nodded, thawing under the sunshine of Betty's words. "I tell my husband sometimes he is a fool, and I don't know how people endure him, but he's good to me." Then she stopped, embarrassed, for she had made her first remark without "bristling."

"I know this, Mrs. Larsen," said Betty, "that no man is worth much in business, unless he has a good woman at the back of him, to help and encourage him. ... You agree with me, don't you, Mr. Jones?"

His answer was to blush red and sheepishly grin, first at Betty, and then at Elsie.

"Well," Betty went on, while I stood by, too astonished to say anything, and indeed not knowing what was coming, "Mr. Black and I talked over, right from the beginning, the advisability of starting a profit-sharing plan. Now, we haven't worked it out—in fact, he has only just decided definitely to go ahead with it; but he purposes that, by the time he has finished his first year in business, if not even sooner, he will arrange some plan whereby he can divide a share of his profits, if he makes any, with his help. ... We talked it over yesterday,"—what little liars these women are sometimes!—"and Mr. Black said he wanted to have the women-folk, who made his little staff so effective, know what he was trying to do for them. You see, Mrs. Wilkes, Jimmie here will get a little bit of profit—let's see, every three months you were thinking of paying the bonus, wasn't it, Dawson?"—I gulped and looked at Betty with amazement, and I must say, admiration, and nodded—"so, you see, that Jimmie, every three months, will have a little check to bring home as a little extra money, which he can put in the savings bank; and—"

"How much is it likely to be?" asked Jimmie eagerly.

"Bless the boy, I don't know. You may not be worth anything. You may be having more now than you're worth," she said teasingly.

"Not my Jimmie," said Mrs. Wilkes a little indignantly. "My Jimmie"—and here she entered into a pÆan of praise of Jimmie.

Then Betty continued:

"And Mr. Jones will have a little check which will probably come in very handily for—furniture?" she said, looking at Elsie. Elsie's only answer was a blush. "And you, Mrs. Larsen, will probably have a check from Mr. Larsen, every three months, which will help, at any rate, to give Mr. Larsen the protection for his old age that he has so thoroughly earned."

Mrs. Larsen was completely won over, and, to my surprise, she burst out crying bitterly. Betty quietly put her arm around her waist and led her upstairs. They came down in a few minutes, Mrs. Larsen red-eyed, but smiling; and we immediately started the question of handling toys for Christmas. The women were all strongly in favor of it, so we decided to have toys for Christmas.

I didn't know the first thing about toys; I didn't know where to buy them; I didn't know what we ought to sell. But, as we were going to sell them, I hoped that my luck would be with me.

After they had gone Betty told me that Mrs. Larsen had said, when they were upstairs, that she had been urging Larsen to find another job, as she felt he wouldn't make any progress with me.

"Perhaps that's why he has looked worried sometimes lately, and hasn't seemed to work with the same delight that he did when I first bought the business," I said.

And then it was that Betty had put her hands to her hips, cocked her head impishly one side, and thrown her taunt at me: "Well, what have you to say now?"