didn’t say anything to me about your coming here to work,” Ted objected.
“No, it was a rather sudden decision. I wanted to come while she was ill, but I had another job, housekeeping for several children while the parents were traveling, and I couldn’t get away. Anyway, I guess I wouldn’t have been much good without someone to tell me what to do. Just the same, I was anxious to get in a little secretarial experience, so when she told me she could use me for a few weeks, I came right out.”
“I haven’t been down to the office since Monday morning,” Ted explained, but did not add that his dispute with Carl Allison was responsible. “That’s why I missed you.”
They were feeling well acquainted already as they stood on the walk, Ted’s hand still on the open door.
“I don’t like to rush you people, but either I drop a dime in this parking meter, or else I have to go,” Nelson finally remarked.
Nancy turned to him once more, and extended her hand. “Thanks, Nelson. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, and even more what you tried to do. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“You bet,” Nelson agreed, and drove off whistling.
Holding open the office door, Ted followed Nancy in. Mr. Dobson was there, seemingly in conference with a man who was a stranger to Ted. But Miss Monroe was absent, which was only to be expected. There were always a great many things to be done outside the office, and as a normal thing work was arranged so that someone was in the office at all times. Now with Mr. Dobson’s leg still not fully healed from the auto accident he had suffered at the beginning of summer, it was generally the editor who was there and his secretary who was out.
Both men looked up at the newcomers, and Mr. Dobson started to rise, momentarily forgetting his bad leg. Then he made a casual introduction, and Ted learned that the visitor’s name was Mr. Woodring. They shook hands.
“I see you two have met,” the editor observed to Ted, nodding toward Nancy. “Nancy, Miss Monroe said she’d be back before noon.”
“That’s all right. Perhaps she left some typing for me to do.”
“And I can find something to help with,” added Ted.
“Oh, no, no,” Mr. Dobson objected. “I particularly asked you here, Ted, to meet Mr. Woodring. He has a proposition that I believe may be of some benefit to the whole town. Nancy, you might find it of interest, too.”
Thus invited, the two young people drew up chairs.
“Mr. Woodring represents a trading-stamp company,” continued Mr. Dobson. “He’s told me a little about his plan, but I’ll let him describe it again for you.”
The visitor cleared his throat, hesitated a moment, as though not sure exactly how to begin—he wasn’t quite so fluent as most salesmen are expected to be, Ted observed—then took out a folder from his sample case. He handed it to Mr. Dobson, who did not happen to have his reading glasses on, and so merely gave it a slight glance before handing it on to Nancy. She opened it and held it so that Ted could see, too.
It was a book of gummed trading stamps, called Blue Harvest stamps. Ted had never seen this particular kind before. They were beautifully tinted, and showed a rural scene, with a cow before a fence, cornstalks on the other side of the fence, and hills in the background.
“Pretty nifty,” Ted decided.
“They are attractive,” Nancy agreed, before finally closing the booklet and returning it to Mr. Woodring.
“I hear that Forestdale stores have been having a little trouble,” Mr. Woodring began, “and I thought I might have the answer.” He laughed. “Naturally, I’m concerned about my own interests, but if we’re able to help each other out, then all the better.”
“I’ve been telling Mr. Woodring something about the new shopping center in North Ridge,” Mr. Dobson put in. “There can be no question that it is drawing trade away from Forestdale. Even some of our own townspeople are getting into the habit of driving over to North Ridge, and a great many of the country people living between the two towns seem to have developed a preference for North Ridge. Their stores are offering a larger stock at slightly lower prices, and that’s a combination hard to beat.”
“Why can’t we match their prices?” asked Ted.
“I believe that’s where I come in,” Mr. Woodring continued. “It’s largely a question of volume. If we could do something to stimulate local trade, volume would pick up, and lower prices would come. I frankly don’t believe that there is enough difference to justify Forestdale people driving into North Ridge to shop. It seems to me they are going over now mostly as a matter of curiosity. My discount stamps would not only make up for the difference in price, but would also be a novelty that might induce them to come back.”
“What do you think of it, Nancy?” asked Mr. Dobson, turning to her. “We’re anxious to get the woman’s point of view.”
“I think it’s a grand idea,” said Nancy with enthusiasm. “We have trading stamps in my home town, and everybody seems to like them—anyway, the women do.”
“And it’s the women we have to consider chiefly,” said Mr. Woodring quickly, “since they do most of the shopping. After all, you can’t always get 3 per cent on the money you save, so when you can get 3 per cent on the money you spend, that looks like a pretty good bargain. The women are the ones who have to stretch the household budget. When they can earn valuable premiums they couldn’t otherwise afford, it’s easy to see why they like the idea.”
He had another booklet in his hands which he handed to Nancy. It was filled with pictures of premiums, and Ted noticed at once an electric train and a number of familiar household items. This glance satisfied his own curiosity, since he did little shopping himself, but Nancy appeared much more interested, and continued to leaf through the book as the conversation went on.
Mr. Dobson seemed to be encouraging Ted to express an opinion, as though he wanted the plan to be thoroughly talked out.
“Who’s paying for it?” asked Ted bluntly, determined not to be sold a bill of goods, but to try to find flaws in the plan if he could.
“Who’s paying for what?” asked Mr. Woodring patiently.
“Well, for printing up the books and stamps and all. That’s kind of expensive itself, isn’t it?”
“Well, Ted, as far as that goes, we can be completely realistic about things. You know—and I know—that not all the stamps that are given to customers are going to be turned in. Some stamps are lost. Some customers start but never complete their books. My firm charges the stores for all the stamps we give them, but not all these stamps come back, and so we never have to redeem them. The difference is enough to cover the costs of keeping the plan moving.”
“But who’s paying for the premiums? Isn’t it true that the customers are really paying for them, in the form of higher prices when they make their original purchases?”
“No, Ted, I don’t think that’s a fair way to look at it at all. A store sells merchandise at a certain price, as low a price as it can and still make a fair profit. Perhaps it would like to lower its prices to beat the competition, but it can’t and still remain in business. Then a trading-stamp plan comes along. The trading stamps attract
