before he said it⁠—all except the salary! That was certainly more than Miss Flynn had ever had! And to begin with! There was only one idea in her head. How soon could she fly to a telephone to tell Lester the good news. She could never wait till she went home that evening. She loved Lester for her certainty that it would make him as happy as she was, that he would not feel jealous or hateful. How good Lester was!

She saw on the faces of the two people opposite her a reflection of what must be on her own. They understood what the moment was to her.

And to them too. She felt in their voices as they talked to her a new relationship towards her, a new respect. They needed her as she needed them. She was important to them and their splendid work. It was wonderful to be really useful in a big thing!

“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Willing!” she assented with all her heart, as the younger woman said, “We feel that you can understand our position. It is not just a store to us, you see. It is our Life Work.”

This seemed a little flamboyant and feminine to Mr. Willing, who said correctively, “We think it rather a remarkable opportunity, all things considered, for giving good store service. With the support the store would naturally get from the town and the farming region around us, we expect,” he coughed, “we hope to double the business before so very many years.”

“Oh, more than that!” cried his wife. “Of course this is confidential, Mrs. Knapp. We wouldn’t want it to go any further. But since we think of you as in on the ground floor with us.⁠ ⁠… If with Mr. Willing’s poor old uncle’s rusty machinery the store actually paid expenses, there’s simply no telling what can be done with a modern organization such as my husband has worked out in his mind. Better wages, lower prices, and what merchandise!”

“My idea of good merchandise, Mrs. Knapp,” said Mr. Willing seriously, “is that it shall be a liberal education in taste.”

Mrs. Willing put in spiritedly, “Give us ten years’ time and see if the Saturday evening crowds don’t look different in this town. The clothes they wear now must give them an inferiority-complex right down to the marrow of their bones!”

“Give us ten years’ time,” said Mr. Willing, laughing, “and see if there is a single golden-oak, Morris-chaired ‘best room’ left in town!”

Evangeline felt dazzled by all that was happening; her promotion; sitting here in such an intimate way with the proprietors of the business; having them talk in this wonderful way of their wonderful conception of what the business really was. It was her conception too. Every word found an echo in her heart, although she had not had the education to express it brilliantly as they did. But she was uneasy at being away from her post so long. What would Miss Flynn think? The exquisite surprise it was to realize that it no longer made any difference what Miss Flynn thought! She felt an inch taller.

Mr. Willing said now, “I’ve been wanting to have a talk with you about things in general, and now’s as good a time as any. We want you to understand the situation in a comprehensive way, in a large way. There are certain elements in the retail dry-goods business which give rise to considerable concern on the part of.⁠ ⁠…”

“Off on polysyllables!” thought his wife. She cut in briskly, with the effect of scissors snipping in two a slowly unwinding tape, “It’s the mail-order houses and the ten-cent stores we’re afraid of. It’s frightful how they steal the business of country people away from where it belongs. The first thing that has to be done is to give them our dust. And it can be done by making the store known for such good personal service and such real attention to customers’ needs that they’ll enjoy coming to the store. And once they’re inside the doors.⁠ ⁠…”

“After all, how even the best of women see things in a little, narrow, concrete way!” thought Mr. Willing. “Nothing big and constructive in their minds.” Aloud he said with simplicity and dignity, “I was brought up on a farm myself, Mrs. Knapp, and a very poor farm. And I have a very special feeling about our country customers. I know how few occasions there are in farm life for civilized mingling with our fellow-men, how little brightness and color there is in country life. It is my ambition to make every trip to our store as educative as an afternoon tea-party for the women-folk on a farm. And I want every purchase at our counters to help every fine big farm-boy to shuck off his awkward countrified ways that put him at such a disadvantage beside any measly, little, cocksure, tenement-house rat!” Experiences of his own past burned in his voice, “We’re counting on you, Mrs. Knapp, to train your girls to have just the right manner with country customers. You know, cordial, but respectful, friendly, but no soft-soap business.”

“I know just what you mean!” Evangeline burst out suddenly, with such an earnest conviction that they stopped talking for an instant to enjoy her oneness with them. Yes, she would do. She would do.

“My ideal,” said Jerome, “is service. What I want the store to be is a little piece of the modern world at its best, set down within reach of all this fine American population around us. I want to select for them the right things, the things they never could select for themselves for lack of training. With modern methods such as my wife and I are familiar with, a quicker turnover with better salespeople, we can raise⁠—not wages⁠—but commissions to keep efficiency up to the notch. And we can lower prices and sell goods that will put our people on a level with big-city people. For I have long felt, Mrs. Knapp, that the

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