The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1918-02-21

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coat, bunch of paradise, five-drop dia-
mond La VALERIE set In platinum, cleo
trio brougham. Abe has got a 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 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 1t comes to poise and balance,
Mrs. McChesney, you make Fair
banks scale look like raft at sea-
while l don't want to seem to
hurry you," drawled Mrs. McChesney,
might l suggest that you shorten the
overture and begin on the first act?"
well, you know how l feel about
your business genius"
Eyes, know" systematically
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 a
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 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 a crowbar
He'll never be able to pronounce his
is right, and when he's dressed up he
looks like bus boy at Mouquins
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
them"
Emma McChesney was regardin,
tho rlupnp y,ipIr NOV, fooa hafora ba
with keen, level, searching eyes.
YES" she said slowly, 81 will"
"Cafe? Well have a bottle"
mo"
"Oh! Er-parlor?"
Mrs McChesney smiled. 81 won
ask you to make yourself that misera
bic. You can't smoke In the parlol
Well find a quiet corner in the writ
ing room, where you men can ligh
up. l don't want to take advantage o
you"
Down in the writing room at eigh
they formed a strange little group
Ed Meyers, flushed and eager, his pinl
face glowing like a peony, talking
arguing, smoking, reasoning, coaxing
with the spur of fat commission tt
urge him on; Abel Fromkin, with hi!
peculiarly pallid skin made paler il
contrast to the purplish-black line
where the razor had passed, showing
no hinc of excitement except in the
restless little black eyes and in the
work-scarred hands that rolled ciga
rette after cigarette, each glowing fol
one brief instant, only to die down
to a blacRenCd ash the next; Emma
McChesney, half fascinated, half dis
trustful, listening in spite of herself
and trying to still small inner voice
"a voice that had never advised heI
ill.
you know the ups and downs tC
this game" I'd 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
Chesney, 81 was so disguised that il
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, DOM
want to be impolite, or anything like
that, Mrs. McChesney, but you're nc
kid. Not that you look your age-not
by ten years. But l happen to know
you're lettering somewhere between
thirty-six and the next top. Amt that
right?"
rs that a argument to put to 6
LADY," demonstrated Abel Fromkin.
Fat Ed Meyers waved the Interrupt
ton away with a gesture of his
strangely slim hands.
"This amt an argument. IT'S facts
Another ten years on the road, ant
wherell you be? In the discard. A
man of forty-six can keep step witt
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;
tired at night She wants her kimonc
and her afternoon snooze You've
seen some of those old girls on the
road They've come down step by
step until you spot 'em, bleached hair
crows feet around the eyes, mussy
shirtwaist, yellow and red complexion
demonstrating green and lavender gel
attn messes in the grocery of some
department store. l don't say that {
brainy corker of saleswoman like
you would come down like that. Blu
you've got to consider sickness and ;
lot of other things. Those six weeks