Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1914-12-17

tfN~%
mond La valliere set in platinum. cleo
trio brougham. Abe has got bush
ness head. take 1t from me. BUT he's
wise enough to know that business
isn't the rough-and-tumble game 1t
used to be. He realizes that he'll do
for the workrooms. but not for the
front shop. He knows that If he wants
to keep on growing he's got to have
what they call a steerer. Somebody
smooth, and polished, and polite. and
what the highbrows call suave. Do
you pronounce that with long a. or
two dots over? Anyway, you get me-
You're all those things and consider
able few besides. He's wise to the
fact that business mans got to have
poise these days, and balance. And
when it comes to poise and balance,
Mrs. McChesney. you make Fair
banks scale look like raft at sea-"
while don't want to seem to
hurry YOU drawled Mrs. McChesney,
might | suggest that you shorten the
overture and begin on the first act?"
Well, ycu know how feel about
your business genius"
Eyes, / know" automatically
Ed Meyers grinned, Cant forget
those two little business misunder-
standings we had, can your"
business understandings" correct
ed Emma McChesney.
Call 'em anything your little heart
dictates, but listen. Fromkin knows
all about you Knows you've got
million friends in the trade. that you
know just what his proposition Is, but
I'll bet he'll give you half interest in
the Invest, come-upest little skirt fac
tory in the country. just for a few
thousands capital. maybe. and your
business head at the executive end.
Now just let that sink in before you
speak
And why" inquired Emma Nc
Chesney, don't you grab this match
less business opportunity yourself?'
Because, fair lady, Fromkin
wouldn't let me get in with crowbar
He'll never be able to pronounce his
is right. and when he's dressed up he
looks like bus boy at Mouquin's,
but he can see bluff farther than /
can throw one-and that's somewhere
beyond the horizon, as you'll admit.
Talk 1t over with us after dinner
them"
Emma McChesney was regarding
the plump, pink, eager face before her
with keen, level, searching eyes.
Yes she said slowly, Il will
Cafe? Wen have a bottle"
mo"
ooh! -parlor?"
Mrs. McChesney smiled y WON'T
ask you to make yourself that misera-
BILE. You can't smoke in the parlor.
Well find a quiet corner in the writ
ing room, where you men can light
up. | don't want to take advantage OF
you"
Down in the writing room at eight
they formed strange little group.
Ed Meyers, flushed and eager, his pink
face glowing like a peony, talking,
" . ahh6f biiiOhAiiSt ltdoOtilliBt tOdAtUks
with the spur of fat commission to
urge him on; Abel Fromkin, with his
peculiarly pallid skin made paler in
contrast to the purplish-black line
where the razor had passed, showing
no hint OF excitement except In the
restless little black eyes and in the
hands that rolled ciga-
rette after cigarette, each glowing for
one brief instant, only to die down
10 blackened ash the next; Emma
half fascinated, half dis
-rustful, listening in spite Of herself, |
Ind trying to still small inner voice
"a voice that had never advised her |
IL.
you know the ups and downs to
his game" Ed Meyers was saying.
When met you there in the elevator
you looked like you'd lost your last
customer You get pretty disguised
With it all, at times, like the rest of
u.s."
AT that minute" replied Emma Nc
Jhesney, Il was SO Disguised that If |
ome one had called me up on the
'hone and said, 'Hullo, Mrs. McChes-
ley! Will you marry me?' I'd have
aid: Yes. Who is this?"
There! That's just it. I don't
want to be impolite, or anything like
hat, Mrs. McChesney, but you're no
i'd. Not that you look your age-not
" ten years! But | happen to know
cure lettering somewhere between
hirty-six and the next top. Amt that
ight?"
Is that argument to put to a
ady?" demonstrated Abel Fromkin.
Fat Ed Meyers waved the Interrupt
lon away with a gesture of his
trangely slim hands.
This amt an argument. It's facts.
mother ten years on the road, and
rhere'll you be? In the discard. A
ian of forty-six can keep step with
ne youngsters, even if it does make
i'm puff bit But woman Of forty
ix-the road isn't the place for her.
he's tired Tired in the morning.