but it happens that I do. And the fact is that there wasn’t any firm called Beacon, Jones and Western ten years ago. Beacon and Jones only merged with Western about five years ago.”
Ted considered, but was obliged to conclude that this wasn’t a very serious breech. “If he worked for Beacon and Jones ten years ago, it would be only natural to give the present name of the company instead of the old name, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, perhaps. Oh, yes, certainly it would. However, this does give me a chance to check up on Mr. Woodring. I know someone at Beacon, Jones and Western who has been with them for many years and would be in a position to consult the personnel records just to make sure Mr. Woodring really was employed there at that time. The whole thing would be on a strictly confidential basis, and if it turns out that everything is just as Mr. Woodring said, then there’s no harm done.”
Once again Ted thought Mr. Dobson was being excessively cautious. But he reflected there was certainly nothing wrong in what the editor was proposing. When someone presents a business proposition which demands a high degree of confidence, he can expect that some inquiries will be made about his background.
“I’ll call Mr. Woodring, then,” said Ted, rising. “Did he leave a number with you?”
“He’s staying at the hotel. You should be able to reach him there.”
Since Forestdale boasted only one hotel, Ted had no trouble putting through the call shortly after he had had his lunch at home. Mr. Woodring was out at the time, but Ted left his number with the desk clerk and asked Mr. Woodring to call him back.
Shortly afterward Nelson phoned, eager to hear what Mr. Dobson had had to propose. When Ted explained briefly about the Blue Harvest stamps, Nelson groaned.
“Is that all? I thought he was all ready to come up with some nice, juicy political scandal, or at least something controversial that’d have everybody taking sides and arguing. I thought there’d be something to stir up this dead town, and now it’s only some moldy old stamps. Holy cow!”
Ted could imagine Nelson’s expression, and he laughed.
“What’s the matter?” Nelson demanded. “Did I say something funny?”
“Not intentionally. But it happens that these stamps do have a picture of a cow on them.”
“That does it,” said Nelson with a deep sigh. “Well, I suppose it’ll work out all right. Women always fall for these phony schemes.”
“What do you mean, phony?” Ted retorted. “Mr. Dobson wouldn’t be mixed up in anything crooked.”
“I didn’t say it was crooked,” Nelson explained. “I just said it was phony. Look, I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was five years old, but some people still think they can get something for nothing. It’s human nature, I suppose.”
“Well, they do have their budgets to watch out for,” Ted returned. “And as Mr. Woodring explained it, the plan helps the stores sell more efficiently and the saving is passed on to the buyers.”
“Sure, the old, old game, something for nothing. Efficient? That’s only because they don’t count all the extra work. Buyers have to sort out their stamps and paste them in their books and get them redeemed, but they don’t get paid for any of that. Well, you’ll never catch me fooling around with those things.”
Ted laughed. “Why do we have to worry about it? Merchants are pretty shrewd, and if the stamps help business they’ll keep on with them. Otherwise they’ll drop them. It’s a problem that’ll solve itself.”
“O.K.,” Nelson agreed disinterestedly. “What’s for tomorrow, Ted? How about a drive out to the lake and—”
“Nothing doing, boy. I’ve got a job now. Mr. Woodring needs some office help for a couple of weeks, and I’m elected.”
“Well, there goes the rest of our summer up in smoke. How’d you make out with Nancy?”
“All right, I guess. I’ll be reporting to Mr. Dobson off and on, so I suppose I’ll be seeing more of her.”
“Lucky dog. Now I know why you wanted to work.” And Nelson hung up.
They hadn’t talked very long, and Ted hoped Mr. Woodring hadn’t called and found the line busy. But it soon appeared that he hadn’t, as the hours dragged on and no call came. If Ted were going to work tomorrow, there were several little matters he wanted to take care of, but he felt bound to the telephone. He picked up a book and tried to read, but his mind was on other things as he found himself half-listening for the phone.
It was late afternoon when the call came. Mr. Woodring was brisk and businesslike.
“Ted? I got your message. I’m sorry that I was out, and only got back a few minutes ago.”
Although he must have known why Ted called, he took nothing for granted, and waited for Ted to state his business.
“Mr. Dobson tells me you’re in need of office help for a few weeks, and I thought maybe I could fill the bill. I’m looking for something to do, until I leave town in about three weeks. Mr. Dobson said you probably wouldn’t need me for longer than that, anyway.”
“That would suit me just fine, Ted. I managed to rent that office you spoke of, and the phone will be in early in the morning. How soon can you report for work?”
“Tomorrow morning would be all right with me.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see you at nine o’clock, then. Good-by.” And the conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun.
Ted decided he would have time for a quick trip downtown before supper, and left almost at once. He had library books to return, and a few purchases to make, and he stopped in front of the theater just to see what would be playing during the next week. There was a horror picture coming, and he didn’t feel that would do, for he doubted that Nancy would care for that kind of picture. Suddenly he wondered what had made him think of Nancy just then.
When he arrived home he told his mother about his new job and asked her for her opinion of the trading stamps. She wasn’t likely to be carried away by fads or something-for-nothing schemes.
“It sounds like a good idea to me, Ted,” she decided. “Women seem to like that sort of thing. It’s sort of like a saving plan. You want something that you really can’t afford, so you save up until you can afford it.”
If his mother liked it, Ted decided that most of the other women would, too. In a way he was glad, even though he couldn’t work up a whole lot of enthusiasm for the plan himself. He wouldn’t have wanted to see Mr. Dobson betting on a dead horse.
Later that evening the telephone rang again.
“It’s for you, Ted,” his mother called to him. “Nancy Lindell.”
Ted was momentarily pleased, but then surprised and puzzled. Why was Nancy calling him? It wasn’t likely she would call a boy she just met that day, unless it was about something pretty important.
“Hello, Nancy?” he answered.
“Ted, I’ve got to know something right away.” Her voice sounded troubled.
“Go ahead, Nancy,” he urged her, as she paused.
“Ted, did I take your job away from you?”
“Why, no, Nancy,” he said in surprise. “What makes you think you did?”
She seemed relieved, although not fully convinced. “Well, Ted, you used to come into the newspaper office almost every day, didn’t you? And now I’ve just heard from Aunt Marian that you’re going to start working for Mr. Woodring. I did take your place, didn’t I?”
“Oh, no, you didn’t, Nancy. You mustn’t think that. Of course I came in every day while they were shorthanded, but that’s all over now.”
“But if