Irish Americans -- Juvenile fiction; Mothers and sons -- Juvenile fiction; Poor -- Juvenile fiction; Widows -- Juvenile fiction
"Well, but, mother, I know every piece I've got, and the price of it."
"Can you measure 'em off handy and careless loike, so that a body
wonders if you ain't makin' a mistake, and measures 'em over after you
when they gets home, and then foinds it's all roight and trusts you the
nixt toime?"
Pat was obliged to admit that he could not.
"And can you tie up a bundle quick and slick and make it look neat?"
Again Pat had to acknowledge his deficiency.
His mother regarded him with an air of triumph. "I knowed I could put my
finger on the trouble if I thought about it. You've got it in you to
sell, else Mr. Farnham wouldn't have asked for you. But he wants you for
what you can do after a while more than for what you can do now.
Remimber your beds and your cookin', Pat, and don't be bakin' beans by
your own receipt down there to the store. It's a foine chance you've
got, so 'tis. Maybe you'll be sellin' more to-morrow. And another thing,
do you belave you've got jist as good calicoes and ginghams and muslins
to sell as there is in town?"
"Yes, mother, I know I have."
"Then you've got to make the ladies belave it, too. And it won't be such
a hard job, nayther, if you do your best. If they don't like wan thing,
show 'em another. There's them among 'em as is hard to plaze, and
remimber you don't know much about the ladies anyhow, havin' had to do
only with your mother and Mrs. Gineral Brady. And there's different
sorts of ladies, too, so there is, as you'll foind. It's a smart man as
can plaze the half of 'em, but you'll come to it in time, if you try.
Your father had a great knack at plazin' people, so he had, Pat. For
folks mostly loikes them that will take pains for 'em; and your father
was always obligin'. And you are, too, Pat, but kape on at it. Folks
ain't a-goin' to buy nothin', if they can help it, from a clerk that
ain't obligin'. Sellin' goods is pretty much loike doin' housework,
you'll foind, only it's different."
CHAPTER XIII
"Pat," said his mother the next morning at breakfast, "what's that book
you used to be studyin' that larns you to talk roight?"
"Grammar, mother."
"Well, then, your studyin' has done you small good, for you talk pretty
much the way I do mysilf, and niver a bit of that book did I be larnin'
in my loife. It don't make a bit of difference what you know, if you
don't go and _do_ what you know. But you're not too old to begin
over again, Pat, and practice talkin' roight. Roight talkin' will help
you in the store. You've got in, and that's only half of it, for you'll
not stay in if you don't do your best. And that's why helpin' a body
don't do so much good after all."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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