Where the Blue Begins

lded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle senior was still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details of the great business he had built up

obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking

enius for storekeeping. Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's the good of yo

signs of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: customers were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d:

lcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He received him into his private office, locked the door,

inking more about themselves than they do about the business. You, Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do-a fine art, an absor

lth, to cover his astonishment. The aged

n is a good steady fellow, but he lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, in th

mself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous

neral Manager," said Mr. Beagle, "wi

door that led out of his own sanct

wl full of bright paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric fan, gently humming; wooden tr

om, which had a frosted pane. Through the glas

LARENEG

s he could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing l

ent appeared in the leadin

________

AND C

ure in ann

ons and fr

GI

dmitted to

s of Gene

intie

________

irt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather pathetically, that she intended to have the whole house repapered in the fall. The big double suite downstairs, which c

had followed "The Duke" that first day. As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions. One day he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs. Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited thei

nk. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had been added to ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her

iness, he insisted on answering everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the quaint diversion of bu

yed at the floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon him. Inexperienced, he had not learned the way

ntion of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, on whatever topic is nearest your heart?"-"Will you write for Bunion and Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word review of your career?"-"Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio fans will be listening in." New to the strange and high-spirited world of "executives," it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the net importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike him as odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or plan a congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had some business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into this atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store to play the game according to the established rules. He was borne along on a roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appoint

s fellows who were amusing themselves with twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, surely they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? He suspected that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward unease. Since they must (not being fools) be aware that these an

o busy to occupy themselves with actual creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading poems incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper comment on literature made him shudder, for though this was a province quit

eliness. He felt sometimes as though his heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned to be reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God would some day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception of deity, he felt near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare mo

al charged against them for books exhibited merely to add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other agenda: the Personnel Director wished an appointment to discuss the ruling against salesbitches bobbing their hair. The Commissary Depar

hat he had found in him the ideal shoulders on which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane an

it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the dreamer, decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to a little lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and iced tea. His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, made him think of Rotary Clubs, also of m

in a pot, which she watered every morning. He could not resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and smiled gently to see the careful neatness of its compartments, with all her odds and ends usefully arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd little whisk attached to it for brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; the fascicle of sharpened pencils held together by an elastic band; the tiny phial of typewriter oil; a small box of peppermints; a crum

he knew she would find it the first

ors; I am leaving not because I didn't enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to retain you

agers' Club that I can't spea

ll possible

GISS

g. But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous selves, he reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: to keep slou

e, he made a stealthy exit

Mr. Beagle's death. There can be no doubt ab