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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Would he make me a suit?" "Why, yes. I'll give you a card to him and you go in there when you're in New York and pick out what you want." "Oh! He wouldn't make them and send them out here to me? Sears-Roebuck do, if you send your measure. They're in Chicago." "I never had any duds built in Chicago, so I don't know them. But I shouldn't think Mertoun would want to fit a man he'd never seen.
Io snatched the book from the reader's hand and tossed it into a corner. "Sears-Roebuck are very tactless," she declared. "Everything they have to offer reminds one of home. What do you think of home, Ban? Home, as an abstract proposition. Home as the what-d'you-call-'em of the nation; the palladium no, the bulwark? Home as viewed by the homing pigeon?
The actual labor of coördination, however, was to be exercised by an advisory commission of seven, which included Howard E. Coffin, in charge of munitions, Daniel Willard, president of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, in charge of transportation, Julius Rosenwald, president of the Sears-Roebuck Company, in charge of supplies including clothing, Bernard M. Baruch, a versatile financial trader, in charge of metals, minerals, and raw materials, Samuel Gompers, president of the American Federation of Labor, in charge of labor and the welfare of workers, Hollis Godfrey in charge of engineering and education, and Franklin H. Martin in charge of medicine.
On the center table was a Sears-Roebuck mail-order catalogue, a silver frame with photographs of the Baptist Church and of an elderly clergyman, and an aluminum tray containing a rattlesnake's rattle and a broken spectacle-lens. Mrs. Bogart spoke of the eloquence of the Reverend Mr.
And a dinner-jacket suit. Two business suits, a light and a dark. You won't need a morning coat, I expect, for a while. Anyway, we've got to save somethin' out for shirts and boots, haven't we?" "I haven't the money with me" remarked Banneker, his innocent mind on the cash-with-order policy of Sears-Roebuck. "Now, see here," said Cressey, good-humoredly, yet with an effect of authority.
"I don't see anything quaint about it. Now, if you'll make yourself comfortable I'll go over to the shack and rustle something for breakfast." "No; I'd rather go with you. Perhaps I can help." Such help as the guest afforded was negligible. When, from sundry of the Sears-Roebuck cans and bottles, a condensed and preserved sort of meal had been derived, she set to it with a good grace.
"I've sure put the fear of the Lord into you, haven't I, Buck?" Ward observed maliciously, wiping a blob of hairy lather upon a page torn from an old Sears-Roebuck catalogue. "I was kinda hoping you had more nerve. I wanted to get a whack at you, just to prove I'm not joshing." Buck swallowed again, but he made no reply.
"Was it?" she murmured. "Probably I take it too seriously. But but Harvey Wheelwright came into one of our early talks, almost our first about real things. When I began to discover you; when 'The Voices' first sang to us. And he wasn't one of the Voices, exactly, was he?" "He? He's a bray! But neither was Sears-Roebuck one of the Voices. Yet you liked my editorial on that." "I adored it!
There was no name in it, so I kept it. It's the book I read most except one." "What's the one?" He laughed, holding up the still more corpulent Sears-Roebuck catalogue. "Ah," said she gravely. "That accounts, I suppose, for the top shelf." "Yes, mostly." "Do you like them? The Conscientious Improvers, I mean?" "I think they're bunk." "Then why did you get them?"
With a gravity equal to her own he took it. "What will you have?" "Let the spirit of Sears-Roebuck decide. Open at random and expound." He thrust a finger between the leaves and began: "Our Special, Fortified Black Fiber Trunk for Hard Travel. Made of Three-Ply Ven " "Oh, to have my trunks again!" sighed the girl. "Turn to something else. I don't like that. It reminds me of travel."
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