Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1914-12-04


regulation uniform-full length seal
coat, bunch of paradise, f1ve-drop dia-
mond La VALERIE set in platinum, cleo
| trio brougham. Abe has got BUSH
ness head, take it from me. But he's
wise enough to know that business
isn't the rough-and-tumble game it
used to be. He realizes that he'll do
for the v0rkrooms. but not for the
front shop. He knows that if he wants
to keep cn growing he's got to have
what they call steerer. Somebody
smooth, an6 polished, and polite, and
what the hfghErows 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 a Fair
banks scale look like raft at sea"
while l don't want to seem to
hurry you, drawled Mrs. McChesney,
might suggest that you shorten the
overture and begin on the first act?"
4 well, you know how | feel about
your business genius.
Eyes, I know" enigmatically.
4 Ed Meyers grinned Cant forget
those two little business misunder-
standings we had, can you?"
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
Z 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 a crowbar.
He'll never be able to pronounce his
rs right, and when he's dressed up he
looks like bus boy at Mouquin's,
but he can see a bluff farther than /
can throw one-and that's somewhere
beyond the horizon, as you'll admit.
Talk it over with us after dinner
then?"
! Emma McChesney was regarding
the plump, pink, eager face before her
, with keen, level, searching eyes.
eyes," she said slowly, II will"
"Cafe? Well have a bottle"
"No."
ooh! Er-parlor?"
Mrs. McChesney smiled. II won't
ask you to make yourself that misera-
BILE. You can't smoke in the parlor.
Well find 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 a strange little group.
Ed Meyers, flushed and eager, his pink
face glowing like a peony, talking,
arguing, smoking, reasoning, coaxing,
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
work-scarred hands that rolled ciga-
rette after cigarette, each glowing for
one brief instant, only to die down
to a blackened ash the next; Emma
McChesney, half fascinated, half dis
trustful, listening in spite Of herself,
and trying to still a small inner voice
"a voice that had never advised her
ill.
'You know the ups and downs to
this 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."
cat that minute" replied Emma Nc
} Chesney, Il was SO disguised that if
some one had called me up on the
phone and said, 'Hullo, Mrs. McChes-
ney! Will you marry me?' I'd have
said: Yes. Who is this?"
There! That's just it. \ don't
want to be impolite, or anything like
that, Mrs. McChesney, but you're no
kid. Not that you look your age-not
) by ten years! But | happen to know
you're teetering somewhere between
J thirty-six and the next top. Amt that
, right?"
rs that argument to put to a
LADY," demonstrated Abel Fromkin.
Fat Ed Meyers waved the interrupt
t ton away with a gesture of his
; strangely slim hands.
''This amt an argument IT'S facts.
Another ten years on the road, and
| wherell you be? In the discard. A
) man of forty-six can keep step with
the youngsters, even if it does make
, him puff bit. But woman of forty
six-the road isn't the place for her.
She's tired Tired in the morning.