Personality Plus: Some Experiences of Emma McChesney and Her Son, Jock

to the thud-thud of hoofs, and the crackle of underbrush. Across fresh-plowed fields they went, crashing through forest paths, leaping ditches, taking fen

t, the forest maze a roll of plans and specifications. Each fence is a business barrier. Every ditch is of a competitor's making, dug craftily so that the clumsy-footed may come a cropper. All the romance is out of it, all the color, all the joy. But two things remain the same: The look in the face of the hunter as he clo

to leap a ditch. He had had his awkward bumps, and his clumsy falls. He had lost his way more than once. But he had always groped his way back again, stumblingly, through the dusk. Jock McChesney was the youngest man on the

ow. You scarcely realize that she has been at work. A faint line about the mouth, a fairy trac

the lynx seem a mole-had failed to note the subtle chang

ich make up an advertising lay-out. He was bent over the work, absorbed, intent, his forearms resting on the table. Emma McChesney glanced up from her magazine just as Jock bent forward to reach a scrap of paper that had fluttered away. The lamplight fell full on his face. And Emma McChesney saw. The hand that held the magazine fell to her lap. Her lips were parted slightly. She sat very quietly, her eyes never l

ke beauty which holds you

ine on the table, face down, and leaned forward,

g 'un. Are you w

This stuff

ast year. Are they p

thing less than a failure, so li

they would. That's the trouble

ere are men who have been in the office three times as long as you

ck his chair and stood up, one hand thrust into his pocket, the other passing quickl

ood, and those other dubs haven't. That's why. They've let me sit in at the game. But they won't let me take any tricks. I've been an apprentic

ir and surveyed the angry figure b

those lines into your face, son." She paused a momen

n with a thwack on t

ou just bet

" asked Emma Mc

n his excited pacing

idn't say there-What

ear, with Baxter out, begins to howl about not being appreciated in business, and to wear a late f

st, it isn't what you mean you

at I mean I think it is when I say. Count ten,

re. Then he sat down, a little wearily. He stared moodily down at the p

ear I didn't mind. A fellow gets accustomed, these days, to see women breaking into all the profes

hat when a firm condescends to pay a woman twice as mu

to me. Just part of the town's decoration like the chorus girls, and the midnight theater crowds. Now-well, now every blink of every red and yellow globe is crammed full of meaning. I know the power that advertising has; how

et will be complete without you. The next thing you know you'll be add

d you know that she knows it. Why look at Mrs. Hoffman, who's with the Dowd Agency. Of course she's a wonder, even if her face does look like the fifty-eighth variety. She can write copy that lifts a campaign right out of the humdrum class,

own. Suddenly she reached out and tapped the topmost of the s

s all

chair and surveyed th

on the stage as 'the papers.' And

Just favor me with

ck stuck his thumbs in the armh

sing Company. Time, the present. Characters:

aracters, however fascinati

a thud, and stood up. The grin was gone. He was as serious as

he way a really scorching idea does, sometimes. This Griebler has been advertising for years. You know the Griebler gum. But it hasn't been the right sort of advertising. Old Griebler, the original gum man, had fogy notions about advertising, and as long as he lived they had to keep it down. He died a few months ago-you must have read of it. Left a regular mint. Ben Griebler, the oldest son, started right i

pted Mrs. McChesney, "but I'd like to know w

armor-plated. Ben Griebler is one of the show-me kind. He wants value received for money expended, and while everybody knows that he has a loving eye

, I still

. Oh, I'm not dreaming. I outlined it for Sam Hupp, and he was crazy about it. Sam Hupp had some sort of plan outlined himself. But he said this made his so

et you. Take your plan to Mr. Berg. If it's what you think it is he'll see it quicker than any other human bein

ver a plan will they reveal. It's against their code of ethics. Ethics! I'm sick of the word. I suppose you'd say I'm lucky to be associated with a firm like that, and I sup

ood very close to her son. She laid one hand very lightly

n business wears it at one time or another. Sooner or later, Jock, you'll have your chance at the money end of this game. If you don't care about the th

sounds all right, Mother-in the story books. But I'm not quite solid on it. These days it isn't so much what you've got in you that counts as what you can bri

here aren't more of 'em," o

e wh

uched his forehead,-"and h

oking that no one takes me seriously. It's darned hard trying to convin

the glass. And as she gazed there came a frightened look into her eyes. It was gone i

ant half of what you've said to-night abo

pose," said the

to the day of his death. You were just about eight when I made up my mind that life with him was impossible. I said then-and you were a

ll contrition. "Why-Mother! I didn't mean-You see this is b

from the boy's shoulder. "And now, son, considering me, not as your doting mother, but in my business capacity as secretary of the T.A. Buck Featherloom Pettico

or to ask, "Aigs 'r cakes for breakfast?" long after those two busy brains should have rested in sleep, the two sat at either side

wonder!" exclaime

he carried a flat, compact bundle of papers under his arm encased in protecting covers of pasteboard, and fu

othes had been ushered into Bartholomew Berg's private office. Instinct told him that this was Griebler. Jock left his desk and strolled up t

ess of that closed door! If only he could find some excuse for walking int

e receiver, his eye on the closed d

right away," came the voice

de-something in the region of his

ck McChesney aloud, in a kind of t

h an extra wriggle at the collar (the modern hero's method of girding up

crutable, seated at his great table-desk; Griebler, lost in the depths of a great leather chair, smoking fussily and twitching with a hun

said Bartholomew Berg.

mile of his. "Mr. Griebler," he said, exte

ler, "I didn't know the

tto that somehow seemed to m

edly into his pockets. He f

's shrill tone. "I prefer 'em young, myself. You'll never catch McChesney using 'in the last analysis' to drive home an argument. He has a new idea about e

of the woods we aren't so long on inspiration. We

handkerchief may form one lovely, blissful color scheme, but that doesn't signif

ybe. I'll talk to you in a minute, young man-that is-" he turned q

ew Berg assured him. "Not at

helplessly around at Sam Hupp. That alert gentleman was signaling him frantically with head and wag

is mouth. "This Griebler's looking for an advertising manager. He's as pig-headed as a-a-well, as a pig

explode

few years. Now listen. When he talks to you, you play up the keen, alert stuff with a dash of sophistication, see? If you can keep your mouth shut and throw a kind of a canny, I-get-you, look into y

field enough to do all that, d'you honestly think-me

housand if he pays a cent. But he wants value for money e

lled Bartholomew Be

, and stood before hi

ng man as advertising manager. I've spoken to him of you. I know w

t," snapped Ben Griebler.

"And if you decide to place your advertising f

s. I'm not the kind that buys a pig in a poke. We're going to spend money-real money-in this campaign of ours. But I'm not

d it, but not before Berg's curiously penetrating p

vance copy. Every business commission that comes to us is given all the skill, and thought, and enthusiasm, and careful planning that this office is c

cigar waggled furiously bet

And that's money. It's too darned perishable, too." He pointed a stubby fin

tient, more self-contained as the other

s studying your business from every possible angle. Perhaps it would be a plan that would require a year of waiting before the actual advertising began to appear. And then you might lose faith in the

lly red. "D'you mean to imply that I'd steal your pl

siness. We're almost powerless to stop it. Nothing spreads quicker

pair and boldness Jock saw the advantage of that stuttering moment and seized on it. He stepped cl

lers were going to broaden out. It's a real idea. I'm sure of that. I've worked it out in detai

iebler. "I'd like to see one

hat was peculiar to him. More foolhardy men than Jock McChesney had faltered and paused, abashed, under those eyes. "M

ent Ben Griebler snatched up his hat from the table, clapped it on his head at

and find out what state it's in. The slogan of that state is my slogan, you bet. If you think I'm going to make you a present o

a forefinger at Jock. "They've got you roped and tied. But I thin

slammed b

pp, passing a handkerch

Advertising has been a scream for so long. Griebler doesn't know the difference between advertising, publicity, and bunk. He'l

y through the outer office, into the great m

armingly. "Where's this Mr. Griebler,

rted the wise Miss Grimes. "Look

still smiling. And

ive-fifteen he walked swiftly down the famous corridor of the great red stone hotel. The colorful glittering crow

n? Mr. Ben Grie

hotel's elaborate system of i

he will be in?" Th

no word. Do you want

he stop at this des

hey leave their keys and get their mail from the floor

ou sit long enough in that foyer you will learn all there is to learn about life. An amazing sight it is-that crowd. Baraboo helps swell it, and Spokane, and Berlin, and Budapest

eled, hurrying through its oysters, swallowing unbelievable numbers of cloudy-amber drinks, and golden-brown drinks, and maroon drinks, then gathering up its furs and rushing theaterwards.

intervals, the figure in the great chai

Griebler

ed up in elevators. The throng thinned to an occasional group. Then these became rarer and rarer. The revolving door

superhuman effort. The stare of the new night clerks grew more and more hostile and suspicious. A grayis

yes lifted heavily. Then they flew wide open. The drooping figure straightened electrically. Half a dozen quick steps

moment. "W

ock last evening. It will soon be five o'clock

y calm of the out-of-town visitor who is pre

ade for the elevator. For an almost imperceptible moment Jock paused. Then, with a little rush, he followed

is door, turned on the light, fumbled at the windows and s

irs. "Let's not waste any time," he said. "I've had a twelve-hour wait for this." He seemed to control the

t-sleeve standpoint. Every gum concern in the country has spent thousands on a 'better-than-candy' campaign before it realized that gum is a candy and drug store article, and that no ma

parkling, his voice more squeakily falsetto than ever

hree years every 'Arry and 'Arriet in England'll be chewing it on bank holidays. I don't know about Germany, but-" He pushed back his chair and got up. "

looke

'em I've changed my mind, see? The campaign's theirs, see? Then I refuse to consider any of their suggestions until I se

look which had made his face so queerly old was

so darned high-principled that two muckers like you and me, groveling around in the dirt, can't even see the tips of the heights to which his ideals have

. "It's been a strain. Something

me down among the p

pped inside me." He began quietly to gath

ired Griebler, coming f

going to have a cold bath, and a hot breakfast. And then, Griebler, I'm going to take this stuff to Bartholomew Berg and tell him the whole nasty business. He'll see the

u," remarked Griebler,

that. And it's going to take more nerve to face her at six-thirty th

n get in a three-ho

aid Jock McChesn

le shamefaced laugh. "Befor