Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ALIAS THE ANGLEWORM. 893 along without shoes and stockings. But,” continued his eccentric visitor, ‘“ when I - first arrived in Coalport less than two hours -~ ago, and walked a block from where the trolley-car stops to the Mansion House, I saw a very nice shop with collars and neckties in the window. You’re the first business man I’ve talked to since I arrived. So, I can only make a guess that this shop that sells collars and ties is one of your de- positors.” Mr. Phelps felt himself on firmer ground. “Yes, it is.” “‘ And across the street was a store with shoes; and next to it was one with stoves— gas and coal stoves. Now, just suppose we all got along without the things we didn’t need. If everybody took the same view of things your bank takes about a typewriter —yjust got along without them because they could—folks wouldn’t wear collars or neck- ties or shoes, or use stoves. But, in that case, where would the bank deposits be— where would the bank be—where would you be?” Mr. Phelps looked his reply rather than voiced it. “Well, what do you think of it?” reiter- ated Jimmy Stuart. — Poiiad “I think,’’ quavered Mr. Phelps, un- steadily, while a glaze of incipient tears crept into his eyes comporting perfectly with his tone, “ that it’s a shame that a bright young man like you comes into this bank to humiliate a man of my time of life!” “Not to humiliate you—to interest you in the topic of your bank’s need for a type- writer, as you think. To do that, I first tried to get you interested in me. You see, you have prestige in this community.” Mr. Phelps refused to be mollified. Jimmy soft-pedaled again. “* Believe me, I had no intention of hurt- ing your feelings. Maybe ”—his mouth quirked in a half-smile—“ maybe I didn’t come in to try to sell you a typewriter—but just to get out of the rain. Anyway, Mr. Phelps, I won’t take up any more of your time than to wish you a more pleasant busi- ness future than the weather-man wished on me the first day I come to Coalport.” In spite of the quarter-century of ex- perience gained cashiering among the culm- banks that festooned Coalport, Mr. Phelps was in rather a quandary as Jimmy re- trieved collar and necktie and walked out. A few doors further along the sign ““ Boston Store’ caught Mr. Stuart’s eye. He stepped into a hall to put on his collar and cravat before entering. A gentleman with a head smooth and shining save for a fringe of black hair over his ears came forward. Jimmy mentioned “ typewriter.” The gentleman shook his head. ‘We have one,” he explained, “ and it is good enough for us. I’m.afraid you can’t interest us.” Jimmy looked chapfallen. “ May I look at it?” he asked. The other man was willing. Jimmy went to the rear. The typewriter was on a desk. Jimmy briskly inserted two sheets of paper with a carbon intervening and picked out a phrase with the timidity of a novice on a tight wire. He withdrew the sheets, handing his ob- server the carbon, reading: The quick, brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The man seemed puzzled. “The sentiment,” Jimmy facetiously ex- plained, ‘‘ although delicious, is not original with me.” His manner indicated that it was a dreary day for selling anything and he was just going through the motions. Later on he switched to cravats, permitted a transient admiration of his own, and vanished into the thick weather again, after slipping the . bit of paper on which he had written care- lessly in his coat-pocket. For a time he wandered around. In and out of buildings he went, trying, always fruitlessly, to interest people in typewriters. If people had them they were deaf to his importunities; if they did not have them, although Jimmy sought to persuade them that their financial salvation lay in pro- curing one without delay, his arguments,. while ingenious, lacked “ punch ” enough to allow him to open his case. He came, at last, opposite a hallway of a building immediately back of the hotel, CELDOO© = O) Co S (C(O) mM