Larry Larson, Specialist

Larry Larson, Specialist By Albert R. Lyman THE clerk showed him into a back room of the store where the manager scowled at him from under a green eye-shade and a mat of tousled hair, "Your account ain't good for an- other dollar," he growled, without waiting to hear what was wanted, and looking as if he might bound out of that swivel chair with doubled fist. "Well, couldn't you give me something to do?" Larson falter- ed timidly, "We're clear down to the bedrock — 'bout to lose the home," he gulped and hesitated, "I'm ready to do anything." "That's just it," snarled Manager Tompkins, more petulant than ever, "Anything! You can do one thing about as well as another, but you can't do anything up to snuff. We have to kick these men-of-all-work out of the way every day — we can have them anytime at our own price. They get mighty little when they get anything, but they're generally busy in the ranks of their own army — The Unemployed. Nothing doing! This is a day of specialists." With new despair Larson turned back for the street, "I neg- lected to say," Tompkins yelled after him with biting fury, "your account's due in five days, and we expect prompt settlement." Five days — and it would be just six days till Dixon and Turner would take the little home and lot, allowing him nothing for the payments which had covered half the original price. And :he shelves of the little pantry were bare, the flour-bin almost empty! The vision of it haunted him. He knew the children had been hungry two days, and he knew Christeena had done a neighbor's washing along with her own, trying to keep it a secret from him. Something had to be done — desperation tugged at his heart- strings. He looked down at his shabby suit with chilling con- sciousness that Christeena's and the little girls' were worse — they could not be seen outside the gate. With clenched jaw and firm resolution, he stalked into the office of Harmon and Brown. "No, sir," protested Mr. Brown, impatient at being disturbed, "this work of collecting calls for special preparation; it simply can't be done by just anybody," and turning boldly back to his pen and his ledger he left Larson to go or stand there gazing, and he made his way to the street feeling like a dog kicked off a door- step.

136 IMPROVEMENT ERA This made fifteen places to which he had applied in vain, and he could think of just two more possibilities. In J. M. Wade's carpenter shop it took just one quick glance at the work, and one quicker word from the old sorehead who bossed the job, to con- vince him the place called for a man made to order. The whirr of a gasoline band-saw mocked at him as he stumbled back to the side-walk. At the gristmill old Jones, dusty and disagreeable, appeared from a stairway and gripped his long beard just long enough to guess what was wanted. "We'll have no greenhorn a ruining this machinery," he squeaked, in his cracked old voice, and disappeared through a doorway. The world looked darker still from those gristmill steps as Larson descended. Anyway, he could milk cows, and with Peter- son's big herd in the edge of town, he could at least report special ability for something. "Nothing so primitive here," blurted young Peterson, supe- riorly, having just assumed the management, "that's done by elec- tric milkers. My kid brother has specialized in that line, and he oversees it." A sick feeling welled up in Larry's heart as he turned with- out a ghost of encouragement from that nineteenth prospect. The specialist had gobbled everything! Moping dejectedly along, he saw a big pile of wood in a yard. "Well, after all, I am a specialist at chopping wood," he half sobbed to himself, with humiliating sense of worthlessness, "I've chopped it and stacked it up by the cord." . "No," whined Mrs. Wilson, in the nagging tone employed tor her whimpering children, "I don't want this yard all cluttered up with chips and trash. Jim Kelly specializes in this wood-cutting with his gasoline saw, and he gets the job." With the cries and protests of the loving young Wilsons grow- ing fainter behind him, he turned with heavy foot, and heavier heart towards home. Christeena met him at the door, and she un- derstood all about it before he said a word. If she had seen him through the window, she would have known it that much sooner. And the little girls knew it: they all saw it in his face and figure, — the blight of it went through the little home, adding darkness to the gloom. On the wondrous wireless, over which souls communi- cate without speech, the whole dismal story had gone to them. From him they had already got the scowl and the growl of old Tompkins, the impatience of Brown, the snarl of Wade's shop boss, and the stings and cuts of twenty heartless refusals. Sinking into a chair he leaned dejectedly forward, his face in his hands. The little girls came quietly near to him and began

LARRY LARSON, SPECIALIST 137 to cry. "What will become of us?" moaned Christeena, leaning on the back of the rickety old rocker. He raised his head to meet her gaze despairingly. In every line of her lovely face, and in her blue eyes, he saw perfect love and devotion and faith in his clean life. If he mourned, she mourned; if he rejoiced, she rejoiced. Whatever his emotion, she caught it by the splendid instinct of her love and nourished it as her own. He knew she had no better dress than that faded, patched gown she wore; and he knew the dear little girls, with staring, inquiring sym- pathy ail over their faces, wore their best, their only covering. From his seat there in the kitchen he could see enough of the pantry to know it was empty as his own stomach, and all round him he saw sad traces of want. The front room and the bedroom showed the pinch of poverty, and his yards and buildings outside told a story of neglect — neglect born of despair. Six weeks with- out work, and no prospect of anything in sight. When they retired he lay thinking with a prayer to God for light; ten o'clock, eleven, twelve, — the faithful timepiece tolled off the hour. No sleep, but a panorama of twenty refusals, the loss of everything, beggary. Specialists! The unemployed! The clock struck one, and still he paced the wide and dreary field of his re- flections and found nothing on which to hang his hopes. The children slept. He knew by their heavy breathing they were at rest, but he fancied Christeena had gone on a pilgrimage similar to his own, and he resolved not to betray his own unrest. Then from the jungle of this world of thought, where faces and figures of the past day peered out at him like menacing ghosts, a shape began to appear with unmistakable promise. When the clock struck two, he knew beyond doubt that from the terrible gloom something had really taken form, had enlightened him to turn the whole fierce tide of his adversity. All lingering possibilities of sleep departed while he built and planned and refreshed himself in visions of glorious achievement. With the first gray light he arose and began a general clean-up of his yards and buildings, getting rubbish ready to remove or to burn, and correcting and soothing the distressed complexion of the premises. In every turn it gave him pleasure, for now he had a plan — he smiled broadly to himself as he contemplated the richness of it. Christeena came out in surprise, "Why I thought you wouldn't do a tap to make this place any better for Dixon and Turner since they're going to take it away from us," she began in the discouraged tone of the previous evening. "Dixon and Turner won't turn us out. Honey," he assured her, relying on the invincible plan for which he still smiled with rising assurance.

13 8 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Why Larry," she interrupted, every line of her face relaxing as she looked in his eyes. "What is it? Tell me what you've found," she pleaded in a glad ecstasy of expectation. "I can't tell you just now, Steenie," he answered, reassuringly, the glad light of hope still in his eyes and all over his face, "but our affairs are to change for the better." "Oh, I'll try to find something for breakfast, and clean up the house," she bubbled, new music in her voice, and new spring in her motion as she ran up the steps. From the kitchen he heard her humming an old love song, and a little later she roused the chil- dren. "Oh, come and get up," she called, with a charm in her voice which she knew would bring them out like magic to see what had happened. "It's a beautiful morning," she told them, "the birds are singing out there in the trees, and Papa's fixing up the place to look like the bishop's place." Sure enough, here came the little girls down the steps in their night-gowns, looking and listening for the glad features of a new world. But first they must make sure their Papa was to be in it. and coming straight to him they looked up in his face. "Oh, Papa!" cried Elsie in keen delight, for he was really a part of the new world, maybe the biggest part of it, "isn't it nice this morning?" "It's sure nice," affirmed Lauritz Larson with a big smile. He stooped to kiss the little girls, drawing them to him while he rested a minute, and he observed how sweet and happy is the world of little folks, if no one brings an unnatural cloud into it. After breakfast, making himself as presentable as possible, he kissed Christeena and the children, and leaving the bright reflex of his expectant smile on their faces, he headed straight for the office of Harmon and Brown. Through the window he saw old Harmon at the desk, his face like the sky before a storm. When he straightened up from his work and peered over his glasses, he still wore the storm-cloud expression, but suddenly it changed, as if the sun had broken through, "Oh, is that you, Larry?" he demanded in pleasant surprise. "You seem to feel mighty good about something." "I admit it," Larson agreed, beaming as if about to relate that he had found a gold mine, and old Harmon's mouth dropped in eager anticipation. "But in spite of that," Larry added, taking full account of the old man's expectancy, "I'd like to do some collecting for you on commission." "Collect?" queried the old man, scratching his head absently. "What's the other thing you was about to tell me?" "That'll be more appropriate to tell when I bring in the cash you're wanting," Larry suggested, still appearing almost too full of the pleasant secret to keep it in. "What do you say?"

LARRY LARSON. SPECIALIST 139 Plainly the rift in the clouds was unusual, such a glad break in the monotony of the old man's dismal life, he had no tendency to refuse. "The job's yours," he cackled, making smile-wrinkles across the old frown-furrows in his face, and revealing some long teeth, "But I've sure got to hear that story. Be here at ten and the list and terms will be ready." With the broad smile of his assurance almost rippling away on the air, he resolved to see Manager Tompkins. To that same back room a clerk conducted him. and the same scowl appeared under the green shade and the tousled hair. But the scowl softened, the eyes opened in surprise. "What the — " staggered old Tompkins, smiling against his intentions, though Larson had simply beamed down on him with bi° kindness and not a word. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back — I wanted to apologize as soon as you went out." '"Sail right, no apology called for," Larry declared, still hold- ing to the thing the manager wanted to know. "But a — what's the — " "I can't tell it just now," Larson asserted, the light of it still radiating from his face," but it leaves me feeling appreciative of the friends who trusted me while I was up against it, and I want to give them first chance at my trade." His reference to those who had trusted him, brought a blush to the manager's face. "See here, Larry, he pleaded, "I'd be delighted to have you go in there and get whatever you want, and take your own time to pay for it. Oh, I can see you're not under necessity as you were yesterday," he urged, noting in Larson's face the cer- tain light of some splendid assurance, "but if you'll do it, I'll feel better." "Well, I didn't intend to do it in just that way," Larry ven- tured, scratching his head, "but if that's what you really want, I'll do it." "Good," declared the manager with relief, "and whenever you feel like it, I'd be delighted to hear what has happened. And say," he brightened with a sudden memory, "you wanted to work for us," and then darkening, "but I guess you won't do that now." "I would like to work here with you folks," Larson declared, in tones of appreciation, "but I am to be engaged with other things." At nine o'clock, with an armful of parcels, Larry met Christeena at the door. "Oh, I expected to have more of this done before you came," she half apologized, reflecting again the bright assurance of his face, and over her shoulder he saw the house had already under- gone a great change in appearance. "Well, since I have to go back, I'll not do it, and you may still get it done before I come," he said, kissing her. and dropping the

140 IMPROVEMENT ERA bundles in her apron. "I have work waiting for me, and may not be back till evening." "Oh, Larry," she gasped, her joy shining through big tears in her blue eyes, "do tell me about it — how did it happen?" But Larry smiled and kissed her again. "Have a good supper ready for us," and turning with big strides he made for the office of Harmon and Brown. When old Harmon handed out the papers, his look still plead- ing for the story back of Larson's smile, there appeared on the list, among others, Wade's carpenter shop, Hyrum Jones, the miller; Junior Peterson of the dairy, and Mrs. Jake Wilson. The new collector decided to visit these first. Wade's boss, black with tar but blacker with chronic ill temper, crawled out from the oily machinery of a band-saw as pleasant as a starving grizzly. "Wha' ja want?" he growled, still glaring at some disorder in the coggs, but when the answer failed to come as he expected, he threw his glance threateningly up to the visitor's face, "Oh — that you, Larson?" he stammered, apologetically, with something resembling a smile visible through the tar and scowls, "T — er — let's see, do you want to work for us?" "Well, I would have liked to work with you fellows," he af- firmed, beaming all over with the glad assurance that he had some- thing a thousand times better, "but I ran into something else." "What is it?" the boss asked, dropping his wrench and straight- ening up like a boy expecting to be told where to find a litter of new puppies. "I may tell you sometime," the new collector answered, fairly itching with the charm of it, "but for the present I am here on quite different business." The sight of the bill, a large one, was the very thing, ordinarily, to stand the grizzly bear on his haunches in defiance of everybody, but looking from it to Larson's face, he had to reflect Larson's smile, just as you have to register prevailing heat or cold whether you want to or not. '"Sail right," he chuckled, rather contrary to some hateful re- solve, '"san honest debt, 'n I'll pay it right now, seein' it's you askin' for it, but it's a good thing for ol' Harmon and Brown they didn't come theirselves." "But say — " he pursued in an undertone, two minutes later, handing over the check, and looking the new collector in the eye, "what the dickens has struck you, anyway?" "You'll probably hear about it," and Larry smiled all the more, "but for the present I'm much obliged for this prompt settle- ment— I'll remember it in your favor." When old Hyrum Jones appeared like a ghost on the stairs, Larson caught his eye in time to forestall any wrong start, "What's

LARRY LARSON. SPECIALIST 141 the good news?" piped the old man, brightening, "Look like you might just fallen heir to a fortune." "Maybe I have," the new collector admitted, seeming to roll his rich secret under his tongue, "but just now it's my misfortune to present you this bill." Jones scrutinized it carefully, debating whether to pay or de- lay. Looking up at Larry's face he smiled involuntarily. "I'd sure like to know what's come to ye," he squeaked, stroking his dusty beard. Getting no answer, he looked again at the bill, "Does it matter to you personally whether I pay this now or later?" "If you pay now, it will confirm my judgment, for I have you rated with safe and prompt settlement." With the check in his pocket he went straight from the mill to Peterson's dairy, and found Junior bossing a clean-up of the stables. At first the young dairyman waxed very superior, but getting a straight look into Larson's eyes, he paused in the middle of a high- flown statement of business, "You're just kidding me," he pro- tested, blushing that this pretended job-hunter should lead him on to crow, "you've got something up your sleeve, really — I guess I misunderstood you — say, you didn't fall heir to this mortgage?" and Junior turned pale with the thought. "Not exactly," smiled the new collector, looking as if he had become heir to something even better, "and I'm not kidding you at all. I'm glad to hear you are so prosperous, not only because you deserve it, but it will enable you to settle with Harmon and Brown, whom I am representing. With good-natured evasions of the thing Peterson wanted very much to discuss, he departed with the check, leaving the young dairy- man trying to guess what strange turn Larson's affairs had taken. From Mrs. Wilson he collected half the account, got definite promise of the rest in ten days, refused the invitation to chop her wood-pile, and pleasantly dodged her one leading question. He made easy work of the others whom he still had time to visit that day, col- lecting from most of them. At the office he found Brown in the swivel chair, apparently in bad humor over the accounts. The junior partner roused up with something on his lips, but he refrained, and his eyes brightened, "Oh — you, Larson — Harmon was telling me that something — " but when the new collector put the day's collection on the desk before him, he appeared non-plussed. "Well, by George — Harmon tried to tell me — er — well I'll declare." At the door of his home Larry met Christeena beaming with joy and hope. Back of her beamed the little girls, and every room and the front yard beamed likewise. After that delightful supper, the morning's work was taken up again in the yards, and it went on from daylight till breakfast time next morning.

142 IMPROVEMENT ERA Passers-by were overheard that day to say, "He's fallen heir to something, look at the change." But the change became more pronounced. He settled in full with Tompkins, while the old manager protested the settlement was too soon to be acceptable. He satisfied the demands of Dixon and Turner in ample time, in fact he paid the last intallment before it fell due. Just what had really happened became the speculation of the town, though everybody knew something wonderful had fallen into Larry Larson's hands; that could be plainly seen in his face, in his life and affairs, the appearance of his beautiful wife and happy children. Everybody sought his company, so pleasant and agree- able, so sympathetic to the poor and unfortunate. From every quarter individuals and companies asked for his expert service, and Harmon and Brown raised his allowance liberally for fear they would lose him. Bishop Robison wanted him to collect some delinquent assessments for the new meeting house. "I know you're a busy man," apologized the bishop, "and I can't afford any commission, but the work requires a specialist, and we have very few men able to do it." Larry did it. The Relief Society wanted a specialist to arrange terms with a contracting concern, and they sent a committee to induce Larson to undertake it. He made the desired terms. He became the successful teacher in an M Men's class, for which the president had sought a specialist as the only hope of dealing with the hoodlum element. A committee of the town requisitioned his services to super- intend a reception for the governor, and they thought the reception was better than any other man could have arranged it. Contending brethren brought their difficulties to him for settlement, and smiled pleasantly over the happy compromise he suggested. Even con- templated law suits yielded to the smiles of his persuasion, and he left behind him a wide trail of good will wherever he went. The old, the sick, the discouraged, and people who had been soured on life in general, camped on his trail, and waited in ambush to way- lay him wherever possible. And always he smiled at them or gave a kind word, a hand-shake or a caress, and they caught the mysterious cheer of his inheritance and found new courage. And the little folks, particularly the unfortunate and the un- happy, feasted on Larson's smiles, and their troubled little hearts swelled big with joy under the spell of his words and his caresses wherever he found them. Companies and corporations paid well for his special powers as an operator among men. The president of the great merchandising company, which had employed Tompkins as manager of one of their stores, made a trip to that part of the country for the sole purpose

LARRY LARSON. SPECIALIST 143 of making Lauritz Larson the new manager, by outbidding every other industry on his trail. And Tompkins, surprised and humiliated, asked to be a clerk under the new manager, assuring him the en- lightenment of the whole affair would make the old manager a better clerk than he had been a manager. The new manager's home and yards were the pride of a wide neighborhood, a telling impetus in every direction for similar im- provements at other homes. And his mysterious inheritance, or rich find, or unusual discovery, whatever it could be, bred smiles and pleasant expectation with all who knew of it, as if they were to be joint heirs. Even though this change had been due to misfortune, instead of to happiness, and the secret of it had been withheld from her, faith- ful Christeena would have forgiven Larry's failure to tell her what brought it about. Yet she still wished very much to know how it happened. But old Harmon, the now pleasant clerk, Tompkins, and even Wade's once disagreeable boss, insisted they had been prom- ised an account of the whole thing in due time, and they united in declaring the time had arrived. To compel the fulfilment of the promise without further de- lay, they planned to celebrate the anniversary of a special increase in business which had come to the two firms as a direct result of Larry's efforts. They announced a banquet of the town, promising as the special feature, that Manager Larson would tell the story of his mysterious inheritance several years before. When the moment arrived, and he appeared at the head of the great hall, filled with beaming friends, he met a deafening applause, and then the old clock grew loud on the wall as they listened. His face showed unmistakably that wonderful fortune had come to him. and it was a face everybody loved. "My dear friends," he began. "The wondrous fortune to which I fell heir on that mysterious night in June is no more for me than for you. I retired heartsick to bed, and lay awake till dawn, nursing the wounds and bruises of dark misfortune. I was facing ruin — beggary. I had been shown out or kicked out of every place to which I applied for employment, and was told in every case that it is only specialists who may enter the contest for existence. In an- swer to my prayer I received the light that taught me to become a specialist, — no matter how long it should take, or what the cost. I canvassed the field carefully to determine what was most in demand, and through faith I saw that nothing was needed more, and noth- ing could be a surer winner, than a specialist in smiles. From that moment I bent every effort to become a smile specialist, and the love- hungry world followed me eagerly from the very beginning. Be- come specialists, my dear friends, and you are joint heirs with me." Blanding. Utah