That is why I speak the English language so wonderful.
For the last three nights I have been up reading reports of my English
customers, going through their purchases. Now it is finished. I am well
posted. I am off to sell crockery in London, in Manchester, in Leeds, in
Birmingham. I have what the people want. They will receive me with open
arms, some of them even welcome me at their houses. Thus it is that I
look forward to my business trip as a holiday."
"Very pleasant, I'm sure," Norgate remarked, curling himself up in his
corner. "Personally, I can't see why we can't make our own crockery. I
get tired of seeing German goods in England."
Herr Selingman was apparently a trifle hurt, but his efforts to make
himself agreeable were indomitable.
"If you will," he said, "I can explain why my crockery sells in England
where your own fails. For one thing, then, I am cheaper. There is a
system at my works, the like of which is not known in England. From the
raw material to the finished article I can produce forty per cent.
cheaper than your makers, and, mind you, that is not because I save in
wages. It is because of the system in the various departments. I do not
like to save in wages," he went on. "I like to see my people healthy and
strong and happy. I like to see them drink beer after work is over, and
on feast days and Sundays I like to see them sit in the gardens and
listen to the band, and maybe change their beer for a bottle of wine.
Industrially, Mr. Englishman, ours is a happy country."
"Well, I hope you won't think I am rude," Norgate observed, "but from the
little I have seen of it I call it a beastly country, and if you don't
mind I am going to sleep."
Herr Selingman sat for several moments with his mouth still open. Then he
gave a little grunt. There was not the slightest ill-humour in the
ejaculation or in his expression. He was simply pained.
"I am sorry if I have talked too much," he said. "I forgot that you,
perhaps, are tired. You have met with disappointments, maybe. I am sorry.
I will read now and not disturb you."
For an hour or so Norgate tried in vain to sleep. All this time the man
opposite turned the pages of his book with the utmost cautiousness,
moved on tiptoe once to reach down more papers, and held out his finger
to warn the train attendant who came with some harmless question.
"The English gentleman," Norgate heard him whisper, "is tired. Let
him sleep."
Soon after five o'cloc
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