“My ideal,” said Jerome, “is service. What I want the store to be is a little piece of the modern world _at its best_, set down within reach of all this fine American population around us. I want to select for them the _right things_, the things they never could select for themselves for lack of training. With modern methods such as my wife and I are familiar with, a quicker turn-over with better salespeople, we can raise--not wages--but commissions to keep efficiency up to the notch. And we can lower prices and sell goods that will put our people on a level with big-city people. For I have long felt, Mrs. Knapp, that the alarming American exodus to the cities comes from a nagging sensation of inferiority that would disappear with the possession of really satisfactory merchandise. You see,” he said, smiling at her, “that in our small way, we will all be contributing to the highest interests of the country.” “Of course on a sound business basis,” put in his wife. “Oh, of course on a sound business basis,” repeated the proprietor of the store. The three shook hands on it with unanimity. Chapter 19 With her materials and patterns laid out on the dining-room table, Mattie Farnham was trying to cut out a dress for her Margaret, an undertaking which was going jerkily because of the arrival, seriatim, of the children from school. They came in at different times, as suited their different ages and their rank in the hierarchy of grades. Little Jim in the first grade was free at two, Loren in the fourth was turned loose at three, and Margaret and Ellen appeared soon after four. The hour of the arrival varied, but the manner was identical: a clatter of hurried feet on the porch, the bursting open of the door, and the questing yell of “Mother! Mo-o-other!” Mattie always answered with an “Oo-hoo!” on two notes, adding, “in the di-i-ining-room!” but she never waited for them to come to find her. She always laid down her work and all thought of it and hastened to give the returned wanderer a hug and kiss and run an anxious eye over his aspect to see what had happened to him during his day out in the world. “Jimmy, you look tired. Did you eat your lunch good? Come on with me and get a piece of bread and butter.” “Say, Mother, Teacher picked me out to say the good-morning greeting to the whole school this morning at Assembly.” “Did she? Which one did you say? Weren’t you scared? Say it to me. Let’s hear.” A half hour later they would still be in the pantry, Jimmy swinging his legs from his mother’s cushiony lap, telling her between mouthfuls about everything that had happened in the long interval since he had seen her last. Mattie listened eagerly, stroking the hair back from the square white forehead, gloating greedily over the changing expressions on the little open, rosy face.