The Road Leads On | Page 7

commerce and international monetary exchange, subjects which were quite irrelevant to the running of his type of business. What good did it do him to set up a refined and complicated system of accounting for his store which could never under any set of circumstances yield him the profits attendant upon a single lucky stroke of his seiners? He insisted upon maintaining a commercial traveler to carry his line through Nordland, though little business seemed to follow in the fellow's wake. One day he summoned this salesman to his private office and pointed to a chair. Big business executive that he was, he was polite but terse in his remarks.
"You haven't been doing much business," he began.
"No, that's the way it looks."
"That last line of ours ought to be going better. Silk nightgowns."
"Yes," said the man, "but folks simply shake their heads when I show them."
"It's a line from one of the finest houses."
"Folks up here still seem to prefer to sleep in flannel. They're old-fashioned, I guess."
"Well, how about those flannel skirts? The latest mode, you know."
"Yes," answered the man with a shake of the head. "But up here, the women would rather have silk."
"Hm."
"Wool underneath and silk outside," said the man with a laugh.
The big business executive frowned at this sign of amusement. "At any rate, you aren't doing enough business. Something must be the matter. Are you drawing enough for traveling expenses?"
"Yes, I have the same as the rest of us out on the road."
"But," his chief said suddenly, "you yourself might possibly equip yourself a little better. Do you call on your trade in clothes like these you are wearing?"
"They are practically brand-new. My last suit possibly got to looking a bit shabby, but this one--"
"Where did you buy it?"
"In Troms?. At the finest clothing store in Troms?."
"Perhaps you ought to have polished brass corners on your sample cases," said the chief.
The man stared. "You don't mean it?" he said, aghast.
"I don't know, it was just a thought. But it isn't simply a question of sample cases and clothes, it's a question of general get-up. I'm not sure you grasp my point. Have you ever given a thought to the matter of style and manner? You are the representative of a big house and you should act and appear accordingly. That shirt and that necktie--pardon me for mentioning them!" The chief nodded to indicate that his reference had been sufficient.
But possibly there was some serious flaw in the man's sense of fashion and progress, possibly he was short on the power discrimination. For instance, he did not even realize that at this point the interview had been concluded. He said: "You see, when we're on the road, we often have to carry our bags ourselves. Sometimes we miss ship connections and have to travel by motorboat. We can't always appear spic and span, sometimes we look pretty mussy."
The chief remained silent.
"And sometimes we aren't even as clean as we might be when we arrive in certain places."
The chief remarked in definite conclusion: "All right, but just think over my words. We will really have to inject a little--"
Nevertheless, Gordon Tidemand was not all show and vanity; he had learned, of course, that clothes and a neat appearance are matters of keen significance, but he did not wander off and get lost in the maze of this doctrine. For instance, he was quick to heed his mother's advice and immediately got busy laying plans to send out a seining expedition.
This mother of his was in many ways worth her weight in gold. She might easily have passed for his sister, so young and good-looking she still was, so joyous, so warmblooded, so clever. She was said to have taken the bit in her teeth during the early years of her marriage, for she had soon lost all interest in her husband, but that had been a good while ago and was already quite forgotten. She was known as Gammelmoderen, [Footnote: An affectionate term applied to any older woman who is sweet and helpful by nature. Though literally it means "old mother," the adjective "gammel" has the same affectionate connotation as "old" in "old son," "old man," etc.-- Translator.] but that was a stupid nickname, for it had simply been her husband, that Theodore paa Bua, who had grown old before his time and who had allowed life and marriage to use him up. She, herself, was as good as ever today.
"When will you send out the seines, and who have you got to boss the crews?" she asked.
Gordon Tidemand was so clever with writing materials; he had prepared a list of all his father's old seiners and began reading it off aloud.
"You've written it down to the last comma, haven't you?" laughed his mother. "But your father