Perkins of Portland: Perkins The GreatButler, Ellis Parker
General
Perkins of Portland: Perkins The Great
Butler, Ellis Parker
Advertising -- Fiction; Humorous stories
“Wait,” I said, “not so fast. I have forgotten one thing,” and I saw her
face fall. “We want the privilege of publishing the novel under a title
of our own, and anonymously. If that is not satisfactory, the deal is
off.”
She brightened in a moment.
“It's a go, if that's all,” she said. “Call it whatever you please; and
the more anonymous it is, the better it will suit yours truly.” So we
settled the matter then and there; and when I gave her our check for a
thousand, she said I was all right.
III.
Half an hour after Miss Vincent had left the office, Perkins came in
with his arms full of bundles, which he opened, spreading their contents
on my desk.
He had a pair of suspenders with nickeldiver mountings, a tie, a lady's
belt, a pair of low shoes, a shirt, a box of cigars, a package of
cookies, and a half a dozen other things of divers and miscellaneous
character. I poked them over and examined them, while he leaned against
the desk with his legs crossed. He was beaming upon me.
“Well,” I said, “what is it--a bargain sale?”
Perkins leaned over and tapped the pile with his long forefinger.
“Aftermath!” he crowed. “Aftermath!”
“The dickens it is!” I exclaimed.
“And what has aftermath got to do with this truck? It looks like the
aftermath of a notion store.” He tipped his “Air-the-Hair” hat over one
ear, and put his thumbs in the armholes of his “ready-tailored” vest.
“Genius!” he announced. “Brains! Foresight! Else why Perkins the Great?
Why not Perkins the Nobody?”
He raised the suspenders tenderly from the pile, and fondled them in his
hands.
“See this?” he asked, running his finger along the red corded edge of
the elastic. He took up the tie, and ran his nail along the red stripe
that formed the selvedge on the back, and said, “See this?” He pointed
to the red laces of the low shoes and asked, “See this?” And so through
the whole collection.
“What is it?” he asked. “It's genius! It's foresight!”
He waved his hand over the pile.
“The Aftermath!” he exclaimed.
“These suspenders are the Crimson Cord suspenders. These shoes are the
Crimson Cord shoes. This tie is the Crimson Cord tie. These crackers are
the Crimson Cord brand. Perkins & Co. get out a great book, 'The Crimson
Cord'! Sell five million copies. Dramatized, it runs three hundred
nights. Everybody talking Crimson Cord. Country goes Crimson Cord crazy.
Result--up jump Crimson Cord this and Crimson Cord that. Who gets the
benefit? Perkins & Co.? No! We pay the advertising bills, and the other
man sells his Crimson Cord cigars. That is usual.”
“Tes,” I said, “I'm smoking a David Harum cigar this minute, and I am
wearing a Carvel collar.”
“How prevent it?” asked Perkins. “One way only,--discovered by Perkins.
Copyright the words 'Crimson Cord' as trademark for every possible
thing. Sell the trade-mark on royalty. Ten per cent, of all receipts
for 'Crimson Cord' brands comes to Perkins & Co. Get a cinch on the
Aftermath!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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