The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1918-02-28

the heading known as Profits" and
the column of figures under the head
ing known as Loss are so unevenly
balanced that the wrong side of the
ledger says, then to the listening
stockholders there comes the painful
thought that at the next regular meet
ing it is perilously possible that the
reading may come under the heads
of assets and liabilities.
There had been a meeting in the
Offices of the T. A Buck Featherloom
Petticoat company, New York. The
quarterly report had had a startlingly
lop-sided sound After it was over
Mrs. Emma McChesney, secretary of
the company, followed T. A. Buck, its
president, into the big, bright show
room. T. A. Bucks hands were thrust
deep into his pockets.
He turned to face Emma McChes-
ney.
WELL" he said, bitterly, ct hasn't
taken us long, has it? Fathers been
dead little over a year In that
time we've just about run this great
concern, the pride of his life, into the
ground"
Mrs. Emma McChesney, calm, cool,
unruffied, scrutinized the harassed
man before her for long minute.
What rotten football material you
would have made, wouldn't you?" she
observed.
"Oh, l don't know" answered T. A.
Buck, through his teeth. 81 can stand
as stiff scrimmage as the next one.
But this isn't game. You take things
too lightly. You're a woman. I don't
think you know what this means"
Maybe I don't take myself serious
ly. I'd have been dead ten years ago
If l had But l do take my job seri-
ously. Don't forget that for a minute.
You talk the way man always talks
when his pride is hurt"
Pride! 1t isn't that"
"Oh, yes, it is, l didn't sell T. A.
Bucks featherloom petticoats on the
road for almost ten years without
learning little something about men
and business. When your father died,
and ] learned that he had shown his
appreciation of my work and loyalty
by making me secretary of this great
company, | didn't think of it as
legacy-a stroke of good fortune"
MOP"
NO 70 me it was a sacred trust
something to be guarded, nursed cher
ished. And now you say we've run
this concern into the ground. Do you
honestly think that?"
7. A. shrugged impotent shoulders.
Figures don't lie He plunged into
another fathom Of gloom. Another
year like this and we're done for"
Emma McChesney came over and
put one firm hand on T. A. Bucks
dropping shoulder 1t was a strange
little act for a woman-the sort of
thing man does when he would heart
en- another man. 4
Wake up" she said, lightly. wake
up, and listen to the brides sing.
There isn't going to be another year
like this. Not if the planning, and
scheming, and brain-racking that I've
been doing for the last two or three
months mean anything"
T A. Buck seated himself as one
who is weary, body and mind.
Got another new one?"
Emma McChesney regarded him
moment tboughtfully. Then she
stepped to the tall show case, pushed
back the sliding glass door, and point
ed to the rows of brilliant-hued petit
coats that hung close-packed within.
Look at EN-" she commanded, dis
gust in her voice Look at em!"
T. A. Buck raised heavy, lack-luster
eyes and looked What he saw did
not seem to interest him. Emma Nc
Chesney drew from the rack skirt
of kings biue satin messaline and
held it at arms length.
"And they call that thing petit
coat Why, fifteen years ago the ma
terial in this skirt wouldn't have made
even a fair-sized sleeve"
T. A. Buck regarded the petticoat
moodily. 81 don't see how they get
around in the darned things l hon
estly don't see how they wear en-"
That's just 1t They don't wear
'em. There you have the root of the
whole trouble"
"Oh, nonsense!" disputed T. A.
"They certainly wear something-some
sort of an"
a tell you they don't. Here. List
en-. Three years ago our taffeta skirts
ran from thirty-six to thirty-eight
yards to the dozen. We paid from
ninety cents to one dollar and five
cents yard Now our skirts run from
twenty-five to twenty-eight yards to
the dozen. The silk costs us from fifty
to sixty cents yard. Silk skirts used
to be luxury. Now they're not even
a necessity"
well, what's the answer? I've
been bordering some petticoat prob
lens myself | know we've got to sell
three skirts today to make the profit
that we used to make on one three
years ago
T. A. rose as YEARLY as he had sat
down Even the most optimistic of
watchers could have discerned no
CLEAN of enthusiasm on his face.
II thought" he said listlessly, that
you and l had tried every possible
scheme to stimulate the skirt trade. "
Every possible one, yes, agreed