The Washington herald., 1915-08-29

Jock. Because I'm a double-barrel.
ed, corn-fed, hand-pieked chump
and"
That's one reason" drawled the
Old Man grimly. But it's not the
chief one. The real reason why you
didn't land that account was because
you're too darned charming
Charming" Jock stared.
Just that. Persona1ity's one of the
biggest factors in business today. But
there are some men who are so ikable
that it actually counts against them.
The client he's trying to convince is
so taken with him that he actually
forgets the business he represents. We
say of man like that that he is per-
sonality plus. Personality is like cleo
trieity, MeChesney. It's got to be
tanned to be useful"
But thought" said Jock, miser-
ably, that the idea was not to talk
business all the time
You've got it." agreed Berg. But
you must think it all the time. Every
minute. It's got to be working away
in the back of your head. You know
it isn't always the biggest noise that
gets the biggest result. The great
American hen. yields a bigger income
than the Steel Trust Look at Miss
Calf. When we have a job that needs
, woman's eye do we send her, No.
Why? Because she's too blame charm
! ing. Too much personality. A man
just naturally refuses to talk business
to pretty woman unless she's so
smart that"
MY mother" interrupted Jock,
suddenly. and then stopped, surprised
at himself.
Your mother" said Bartholomew
Berg slowly, "is one woman in a mil
lion. Don't ever forget that. They
don't turn out models like Emma Nc
Chesney more than once every blue
moon"
Jock got to his feet slowly. He
felt heavy, old. Il suppose" he be-
gan, that this ends my-my adver-
tising career"
ENDS it," The Old man stood up
and put heavy hand on the boys
shoulder. "It only begins it. Unless
you want to lie down and quit. Do
you." ....
"Quit!" cried Jock McChesney.
Quit! Not on your white spacer'
"Good!" said Bartholomew Berg.
and took Jock McChesney's hand in
his own great friendly grasp.
An instinct as strong as that which
had made him blatant in his hour of
triumph now caused him to avoid, in
his hour of defeat, the women folk
before whom he would fain be hero.
He avoided Grace Gait all that long,
dreary afternoon. He thought wild
ly of staying downtown for the even
ing, of putting off the meeting with
his mother, of avoiding the dreaded
explanations, excuses, confessions.
But when he let himself into the
fiat at hve-thirty the place was very
quiet, except for Annie, humming in
a sort of nasal singsong of content
in the kitchen.
He hickcd on the light in the liv-
ing-room. A new magazine had come.
1t lay on the table, its bright cover
staring up invitingly. He ran through
its pages. BY force of habit he turned
to the back pages. Ads stared back
at hin-clothing ads, paint ads, mo-
tor ads, ads of portable houses, and
vacuum cleaners-and toilette prep
arations. He shut the magazine with
a vicious slap.
He flieked off the light again, for
no reason except that he seemed to
like the dusk. In his own bedroom it
was very quiet.
He turned on the light there, too.
then turned it of. He sat down at the
edge of his bed. How was it in the
stories? Oh, yes! The cub always
started out on an impossibly difficult
business stunt and came back tri-
umphant, to be made member of
the hrm at once.
A vision of his own roseate hopes
and dreams rose up before him. II
grew very dark in the little room, then
altogether dark. Then an impudent
square of yellow from light turned
on in the apartment next door flung
itself on the bedroom floor. Jock
stared at it moodily.
A key turned in the lock. A door
opened and shut. A quick step. Then:
"Joek!" A light flashed in the living
room.
Jock sat up suddenly. He opened his
mouth to answer. There issued from
his throat strange and absurd little
croak.
Jock! Home"
"Yes," answered Jock, and straight
ened up. But before he could flick on
his own light his mother stood in the
doorway. tall, straight, buoyant fg-
ure.
II got your wire and Why. deari
In the dark! What"
Must have fallen asleep, I guess"
Jock Somehow he dreaded
to turn on the lights.
And then, very quietly. Emma Me-