There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle and Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance.Old Mr.Beagle was furious, and hotly scolded his son.In spite of his advanced age, Beagle senior was still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details of the great business he had built up."You numbskull!" he shouted to Beagle junior, "that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and you let him be fired by a mongrel superintendent.""But, Papa," protested the vice-president, "the superintendent had to obey the rules.You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking.Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him ""Rules!" interrupted old Beagle fiercely--"Rules don't apply in a case like this.I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping.Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him.What's the good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead charts, when you haven't even got a record of his address?"Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself.Already he saw signs of disorganization in the main aisle.Miss Whippet was tearful: customers were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O.K.'d: Mrs.Dachshund was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain that she was only "looking," and had no intention to purchase.
So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its target, the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion.He received him into his private office, locked the door, and produced a decanter.Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of his own.
"I have given my life to trade," he said, "and I have grown weary of watching the half-hearted ******tons who imagine they can rise to the top by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business.You, Mr.Gissing, have won my heart.You see storekeeping as I do--a fine art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport.It is an art as lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing and charming thepublic."
Gissing bowed, and drank Mr.Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment.The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye.
"I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life.I can see that you are naturally consecrated to it.My son is a good steady fellow, but he lacks the divine gift.I am getting old.We need new fire, new brains, in the conduct of this business.I ask you to forgive the unlucky blunder we made lately, and devote yourself to us."Gissing was very much embarrassed.He wanted to say that if he was going to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so loudly that Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard.
"I want you to take a position as General Manager," said Mr.Beagle, "with a salary of ten thousand a year."He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum."Here is your office," he said.
The bewildered Gissing looked about the room --the mahogany flat- topped desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its thick edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of bright paper- clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on one wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a nice domestic- looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug--Ah, how alluring it all was!
Mr.Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted pane.Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the wordsREGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM
What a delightful little room to meditate in.From the broad windows he could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in the warm sunlight.He turned to Mr.Beagle, greatly moved.
The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this effect:--BEAGLEANDCOMPANYtake
pleasure in announcing to their patrons and friends that MR.GISSING hasbeen admitted to the firm in the status of General Manager Je Maintiendrai_
Mrs.Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described.Her only fear was that now she would lose her best lodger.She made Purp go out and buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather pathetically, that she intended to have the whole house repapered in the fall.The big double suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom and sitting-room, she suggested as a comfortable change.But Gissing preferred to remain where he was.He had grown fond of the top floor.
Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and prosperity.The store buzzed with the news.At his request, Miss Whippet was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary.It was delightful to make his morning tour of inspection through the vast building.Mr.Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously he had followed "The Duke" that first day.As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging.Customers were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions.One day he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs.Dachshund, Mrs.Mastiff, and Mrs.Sealyham were his guests.He invited their husbands, but the latter were too busy to come.It would have been more prudent of them to attend.That afternoon Mrs.Dachshund, carried away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum wrist-watch.Mrs.Mastiff bought a diamond dog-collar.Mrs.Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily embarrassed in Wall Street, contented herself with a Sheraton chifforobe.
