Sherman Road were of a better class than in any of the other schools. He couldn't afford to take chances with this school. Every form that was filled up might mean an order.
In the school lobby they found the same depressing notice warning canvassers and salesmen that they were trespassing. Underneath this official notice was another notice written and signed by the headmaster.
George read this notice and experienced a sinking feeling it his stomach. 'I've never seen anything like this before,' he whispered, furtively looking down the passage that led to the classrooms. 'Doesn't look very hopeful, does it?'
Brant shrugged. 'You can always tell him you can't read,' he said with a sneer. 'He might even believe you.'
George flushed, and without a word walked down the passage to the headmaster's office. He wished that Robinson was with him. Robo would know what to do. He didn't care a damn whom he tackled or how rude people were to him
George tapped on the door and waited.
'Come in,' roared a voice.
They entered a small, hare room. A big, fleshy man, with a large blond moustache on a round, flat face, frowned at them.
'Who are you? What do you want?' he shouted in a voice made harsh by constant bullying.
George gave him a nervous smile. 'Good morning, Mr Eccles,' he said, his heartiness wavering. 'Forgive me for intruding like this, but I was passing, and I felt that you'd be interested to hear that the new edition of the Child's Self Educator is now ready.'
Mr Eccles leaned across his desk, his hard little eyes boring into George. 'What?' he shouted. 'Selling something? Where's your permit?'
George took an involuntary step back. 'Now, please don't misunderstand me, Mr Eccles,' he said, trying to control his rising colour. 'We're not selling anything. It's just that we thought you'd be interested to hear that the new edition of the Child's SelfEducator is—er—ready. It's a magnificent job. Two hundred additional coloured plates, and all the maps have been revised. There's more than two hundred thousand additional words, bringing this wonderful work of reference right up to date.'
'Hamm,' Mr Eccles grunted. 'You people are not supposed to be on the school premises, you know. I haven't the time nor the inclination to talk to salesmen. All right, thank you for calling. Good afternoon,' and he picked up his pen and began to write.
Had George been alone, he would have slunk out of the room, but the cold, still, hateful figure of Brant made retreat impossible.
'If you'll excuse me, Mr Eccles,' George said, his face now the colour of a beetroot, 'there's just one other point I would like to raise with you. You know the CSE, of course. You'll agree with me, I'm sure, that it is a most useful set of books and its reputation in the world of letters is second to none. Any child possessing this magnificent work of reference has an obvious advantage over the unfortunate child who is without it. The task of the teacher is considerably lightened if a child can turn to the CSE and find for itself the answer to those awkward questions that a child is always asking his teacher.'
Mr Eccles laid down his pen and pushed hack his chair. His movements were deliberate and ominous.
'If I thought you were trying to sell something on these premises,' he said with deadly calm, 'I would give you in charge.'
George shuffled his feet. 'I assure you, Mr Eccles,' he stammered, 'I—I have no intention of selling anything, no intention at all. It's just that I hoped for your co-operation. Unless teachers are prepared to assist us, we are unable to let parents know how invaluable the CSE—and who would deny it?—would be in the home.'
Mr Eccles rose to his feet. To George, he seemed to grow n stature, and broaden like a rubber doll that is being inflated. 'You're canvassing,' Mr Eccles said in an awful voice, 'I thought as much. What is the name of your firm?'
George had visions of a complaint being lodged by the LCC. Although the World-Wide Publishing Company was fully aware of the methods used by their salesmen, officially these methods were not recognized. They were all right, so long as there were no complaints. If there were complaints, then the salesmen were sacked.
George stood staring stupidly at Mr Eccles, his face red, his mouth dry and his eyes protruding. He visualized the arrival of the police and being marched through the streets to the police station.
'Well?' Mr Eccles shouted at him, seeing his confusion and enjoying it. 'Who's your firm? I'll get to the bottom of this! Pm going to stop you touts bothering me and my staff. Every day someone calls. If it isn't vacuum cleaners, it's silk stockings. If it isn't silk stockings, it's expensive hooks that no one can afford to buy. Pm going to put a stop to it!'
From somewhere in the rear, where he had been standing, Brant suddenly appeared in front of George. He walked straight up to Mr Eccles and fixed him with his cold, expressionless eyes.
'There is no need to shout,' he said, in his soft, clipped voice. 'We've been received at all the other schools in this district with courtesy, Mr Eccles. Surely, we are entitled to your courtesy too.'
Mr Eccles glared at Brant, then quite suddenly moved back a step.
'We are men trying to do a job of work,' Brant went on, his eyes never moving from Eccles' face. 'Just as you are trying to do a job of work. As representatives of the World-Wide Publishing Company we are entitled to a hearing. The World-Wide Publishing Company has been dealing with the teaching profession for two hundred years. Its reputation for integrity and good work is known and commented upon by the London County Council. The
