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Updated: May 22, 2025
It's long past due and it's getting altogether too large for me to carry as business is now." "Why, what account is that? I didn't know I owed you a cent." "Why, for that mail-order business of yours. They've been ordering goods from me for over a year now, and what they have ordered during the last six months has not been paid for.
Then Bowers fired a barrel of his shotgun into the air as a reminder to possible coyotes in the rim rocks that he was present, and lighted the lantern in his tepee. "I'll have to warsh that chimbly in a couple o' years," he commented as he set the lantern down and reached for a worn and tattered mail-order catalogue in the corner.
"Is it because the Sears-Roebuck mail-order double-bow knot in polka-dot pattern stands as a sign of pristine innocence?" In spite of herself Miss Van Arsdale laughed. "Something of that sort." Io's soft lips straightened. "It's rotten bad form. Why shouldn't he be right? It's so easy. Just a hint " "From you?" "From either of us. Yes; from me, if you like."
While the catalogue is under course of construction, the whole mail-order system should be thoroughly gone over, tightened up, well oiled, improved where possible, and put in proper shape to handle the large volume of business which is bound to come immediately after the distribution of catalogues.
The mail-order trade grew up side by side with the store trade. When the store was young and variety of goods small, the mail-order trade was limited; but as the store grew, as extra space was needed for increased service, and new goods and new departments were rapidly added, the mail-order trade increased in proportion, keeping abreast of it all the time.
He had fallen out with the great trading company of Alaska and did almost all his purchasing from a "mail-order house" in Chicago, the enormous quarto catalogue on the flimsiest thin paper issued by that establishment being his chief book of reference and his choice continual reading.
Chairs with an odd assortment of calico-covered cushions were scattered over the room. Crude, old-fashioned tables were set here and there, each with a coal-oil lamp. By the light from the brightly polished chimneys some read newspapers more than a week old, others looked hungrily through the mail-order catalogs which always piled up in country post offices.
After office-hours they put on their very best mail-order clothes and parade up and down Main Street, talking loud and flirting obviously with the girls. The girls haven't much else to do; they don't find it so easy to get away.
For this reason, the owner determined to engage, as advertising manager, a young man who had several years' successful experience in advertising, but no first-hand knowledge of the mail-order business. The young man did brilliant work. The business of the house began to grow, dividends began to come in, and the owner was delighted.
Curiosity got the better of me and I took occasion to see where the boxes were being addressed. It was to a large mail-order house in Chicago. The first noon whistle—work dropped—a rush for the washroom. Let no one think his hands ever were dirty until he labors at a foot press in a brassworks. Such sticky, grimy, oily, rough blackness never was—and the factory supplies no soap nor towels.
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