every word he said. He'd be a success in, say, a
professorship in a college--and not a business college, either."

"If the place were yours," Richard, alive with interest, put it to him,
"now, this minute, what would be the first thing you would do?"

Carson laughed--not derisively, but like a boy who sees a chance at a
game he likes to play. "Have a bonfire, I'd like to say," he vowed. "But
that wouldn't be good business, and I wouldn't do it if I had the
chance--unless there was insurance to cover! And there's money in the
stock. Part of it could be got out. But it ought to be got out before
the moon is old. Then I'd like the fun of stocking up with new lines,
new departments, things the town never heard of. I'd make that blanket
window you told me about look sick. That is," he added modestly, "I
think I could. Any good general buyer could. I'm a dress-goods man
myself, only I've grown up under Kendrick & Company's roof and I've been
watching other lines than my own. It interests me--the possibilities of
that store. Why, the man ought not to fail! He has the best location in
town, the biggest windows, the best fixtures, judging by the outside of
the places I saw as I came along. I looked at the blanket-window place.
That's a dark store when you get back a dozen feet. Benson's, being on
the corner, is fairly light to the back door. That counts more than any
other thing about the building itself. And the fellow has his underwear
in the brightest spot in the shop and the dress goods in the darkest!
His heavy lines by the door and his notions and fancy stuff way back
where you've got to hunt for them! And his windows--oh, blazes! I wanted
to climb up and jump on the mess and then throw it out!"

Richard drove Carson back to town, his heart afire with longing to do
something, he did not yet know what. He could not consult Carson about
the matter further than to find out from him what was wrong with the
business from the standpoint of the customer; why the place did not
attract the customer. Details of this phase of the question Carson had
given him in plenty, all leading back to the one trouble--Benson had not
understood how to appeal to the class of custom at his doors. He had not
the right goods, nor the right means of display; he had not the right
salespeople; in brief, he had nothing, according to Carson, that he
ought to have, and everything, poor fellow, that he ought not! It was a
hard case.

As to actual busines