“You're right. The man on the road with a good trade and a good salary has a pretty good thing of it.” “Well, some men expect to strike it rich by silver stock. Do you know Al Bevins?” “The sleigh-bell man? Yes, I know him well.” “Has he told you about the silver stock?” “No.” “He has been investing in Deming's--” “Oh, d--n Deming! He's a nuisance with his silver stock.” “Yes, but he gets the boys in all the same. Henley has bought a lot in Providence on the strength of his investment, and Deacon Hall, of Wallingford, will buy out Wallace when his dividends come in. Bevins says it's better than sleigh-bells, and Al knows how to run a factory.” “Still, some of the men at the factories are born idiots. You can't teach them anything. If the managers were compelled to make one trip a year they'd find out a good deal. Here's my ax trade. I've been cussed from one end of the trip to the other. My orders for October shipment were billed about January 1. And it's the same way year after year. I swear, I often wonder that I get any orders at all! They damn me in February, and yet they give me new orders in May. But it is sickening to hear the same story over and over, year after year.” “What excuse do they offer at home?” “Oh, it's never two years alike. One year the streams dry up; then the foreman is discharged; then they booked too many orders.” “A little thing happened that riled me when I was last home. A customer ordered a certain spoon, using a special number of his own, on the 18th of May. I was in the shop late in June, and the shipping clerk asked me what spoon that was! Here he had held the order six weeks before he took steps to find out what the man wanted. I gave him a piece of my mind.” “Talking of spoons, do you ever run across Kendrick, of Mix & Co.? I traveled with him a few years ago.” “He sticks close to the factory. There is an instance where the traveling man took the management of the factory to good purpose. I don't believe there is a better-managed business anywhere. Kendrick has become a deacon in the church, with a weather eye out for fast horses.” “Talking of spoons reminds me of Father Parmelee, of Wallingford. Do you know him?” “Who, Sam? Yes, indeed.” “We were in Detroit together, and the way Parmelee talked William Rogers was enough to drive a man crazy. He's just chock full of William Rogers, and I'll bet he'll want Rogers on his plated grave-stone.” “Parmelee is one of the kindest-hearted men on the road. I never heard him say a bitter word against any one; I never knew him to bore any one; I never heard a merchant speak other than kindly of him. He travels for a big house, but they probably do not know how much of their business in the West is due to Parmelee's push and tact. He has been a long time traveling, and I always like to meet him.”