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| She, The Dealer, And The Idea | ||
| reprinted from Eastern Philatelist, July 1896 | ||
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Continued....... "Their value as nearly as may be," She meekly answered. "And what do you suppose that to be?" he asked, with an expression in his eyes that She afterward described as "calculating." "I believe somewhere in the neighborhood of $15.00," She replied, thinking that answer quite exact enough to be in keeping with the character of ignorance that She was supporting. He looked again at the stamps, then at her, and apparently reaching the conclusion that She was as ignorant in reality as in seeming of their real value, said decidedly "They are worth just $2.35." She fairly gasped, then caught her breath and gasped again, for this treatment was supporting the suspicion of unfair dealing.with her own sex in a decidedly unpleasant manner; then, indicating a group of yellow-green, She said "I feel sure these alone are each worth more than that. They are perforated, did you notice? "I know what they are," snapped the Dealer, getting up with a you-can-take-it-or-leave-it expression, "and you evidently don't." She actually smiled. She did know, and meant to let him see it, so, picking up the catalogue and turning to one of the countries represented by her stamps, She calmly inquired "May I ask you to show me here how you found those prices?" If ever a man's face said "I won't!" his did, but, thinking better of it, he laid a pencil-point upon the words, "2p., dark green, 60c.," and waited triumphantly for her next words. They came, but they were not quite what he had expected. "This price is for dark green, and unperforated," said She slowly, looking full into his face; "those I offered you are yellow-green, perforated and catalogued at $3.25 apiece; see here (pointing to the place) - I know quite well all about it; but if my own opinion is not enough I have that of the - - Stamp Company to the same effect. They offered to buy all I could bring them, but I did not care to let these go today." (She did not think it necessary to state the purpose for which they had been kept.) Mr. Dealer's face flushed a little; he actually seemed ashamed, She thought, and looked again to make sure, but he gave her-no chance. Turning his back, he stalked abruptly to the window and stood there looking out, while She, with a pucker of amusement about her lips, gathered up her stamps and left the office, dropping a polite "good afternoon" at the door, which he did not notice either by word or glance. "I do hope I wasn't rude," meditated She, while picking her way down the stairs, "but it was so exasperating to have him try to get the best of me because he thought I wouldn't know it that I couldn't resist the temptation to let him see that I was well informed. Of course, he must know just what those stamps were - a dealer of his experience couldn't have the excuse of ignorance. I'm indignant!" Nevertheless, she was smiling as she hurried through the busy streets toward the railroad station, and was smiling still when she gave me the story. None of us who have heard it will ever patronize that dealer again, rightly thinking that he who will cheat in buying would be quite as apt to do so in selling. He has already lost enough orders through that bit of finesse to more than counter-balance the proper value of the stamps he tried to obtain so cheaply, for this was a real occurrence, and She and the Dealer are real, too, though I am not at liberty to reveal the identity of either. AMY L. SWIFT. | ||
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