The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1916-07-07

figure of the erstwhile buoyant Mey-
ers, "Where'll we lunch, Jock?"
Mother" Jock broke out holly,
why in the name of all that's foolish
do you persist in using the methods
of Methuselahl People don't sell
goods any more by sending out fat
old ex-traveling men to jolly up the
trade"
Jock" repeated Emma McChesney
slowly, Observation-Disclosures"
1t was grim little meal, eaten
almost in silence Emma McChesney
had made it a rule to use luncheon
time as recess. She played mental
tag and hop-scotch. SO that, returning
to her Office refreshed in mind and
body, she could attack the afternoons
work with new vigor. And never did
she talk or think business.
Today she ate her luncheon with
a forced appetite, glanced about with
listlessness far removed from her
usual alert interest, and followed
Jocks attempts at conversation with
polite effort that was more insulting
than downright inattention.
Dessert, Mother" Jock had to say
it twice before she heard.
What? Oh, mo- think not"
The waiter hesitated, coughed dis
creetly, lifted his eyebrows insin-
uatingly. "The French pastry's par
ticularly nice today madam. If you'd
care to try something's Eclair, madam
! peach tart-mocha tart-caramel-"
Emma McChesney smiled. at does
sound tempting She glanced at Jock.
"And we're wearing our gowns so
hoppy this year that it makes no diff
/ ference whether ones fat or not"
| She turned to the waiter. "I never can
tell till see them. Bring your pastry
tray, will your"
Jock McChesney's finger and thumb
came together with snap. He leaned
across the table toward his mother,
eyes glowing, lips parted and eager.
There! you've proved my point"
Point?"
About advertising. No, don't stop
me. Don't you see that what applies
to pastry applies to petticoats? You
didn't think of French pastry until he
,, suggested it to you-advertised it,
really. And then you wanted a pic
ture of them You wanted to know
what they looked like before buying.
That's all there is to advertising. Tell
ing people about thing, making EN-
want it, and showing EN- how it will
look when they have it. Get me?"
Emma McChesney was gazing at
| Jock with curious, fascinated stare.
1t was blank little look, such as we
sometimes wear when the mind is
working furiously. If the insinuating
waiter. presenting the laden tray for
her inspection, was startled by the
rapt expression which she turned
upon the cunningly wrought wares,
he was too much waiter to show it.
A pause. "That one" said Mrs. Nc
Chesney, pointing to the least ornate.
She ate it, down to the last crumb,
, in silence that was pregnant with
: portent. She put down her fork and
sat back.
, clock, you win. IL suppose have
: fallen out of step. Perhaps I've been
too busy watching my own feet. T.
A. will be back next week. Could your
) Office have an advertising plan rough
l ly sketched by that timer
, Gould they'll" His tone was ex
ultant. Watch 'eml Hupp's been
: crazy to make Featherlooms famous
"But look here, son. I want a hand
! in that copy. l know Featherloom:
! better than your Sam Hupp will
ever"
=. Jock shook his head. They won
! stand for that, Mother. 1t never works
= The manufacture always thinks h.
f can write magic stuff because h,
knows his own product. But h
i never can. You see, he knows toe
I much. That's it. No perspective"
We'll See" said Emma McChesne,
CURLY.
= So it was that ten days later tn,
! first important conference in the in
terests of the Featherloom Pettieoa
Company's advertising campaign wa
, called. But in those ten days Of hur
> ried preparation little silent TRACED,
. had come about. For the first time ii
her brave, sunny life Emma McChes
4 ney had lost faith in herself. An,
: with such malicious humor does Fat
: work her will that she chose San
Hupp's new dictagraph as the instru
+ ment with which to prick the bubble O
h Mrs. McChesney's self-conhdence.
h Sam Hupp. one of the copy-writint
e marvels of the Berg, Shriner firm, ha
IS a trick of forgetting to shut off Ger