Valuable as were the qualities that had placed Dorothy's friend, Mr. Miller, high in the estimation of Hallowells', they entailed one defect that was more valuable than all of them put together. Resolution, hard work, and singleness of purpose had given him an enviable position in the most humorous job of the age; but these would have availed him comparatively little had there not been in that part of him where his sense of humour should have resided, a void that approached as near to a vacuum as nature permits. It was to that void that Mr. Miller really owed his success.
For you simply cannot do these things with your tongue in your cheek. Had Mr. Miller not been able to make, with perfect belief in them, statements that anybody else would have had to laugh in the middle of, he would not have been the Man of Ideas he was. In the ordinary run of his business smart young men came to Mr. Miller with notions and devices for this and that; he bought them, paid for them at the current rates, merely because he had to have them; but they were not what he really wanted. What he really wanted let him explain for himself.
The moment you were shown into his room you were aware that you were in the presence of no funny man. Suppose you had the good fortune not to be "turned down" at once as a mere "smartie," Mr. Miller would take trouble with you. He would frankly admit that he and his fellows had only themselves to thank for the disrepute into which their craft had fallen; and bold would have been the advertising freebooter or mere space-broker who had held up his head before Mr. Miller's righteous anger.
"We've overdone it," he would sorrowfully admit. "We want noo blood--noo blood, noo idees, and belief in the reel dignity of our work. If you've got them, sit right down and let's have a look at them; if you haven't, you're a busy man and so am I, and I keep my door plain inside and pretty in the passage where it looks best from. Now show."
Let us assume that you showed and that Mr. Miller found you worth still more trouble. He might then address you as follows:--
"Too smart. Smartness took the full count the fall before last; we're pushing these funny stunts underground where they belong. And that other idee--too noisy. Shouting don't go any more to-day. N. G.---- Now you're an Englishman, and cann't be expected to see these things in their reel perspective; but you've assets right here in this country without these vodeville acts. It ain't my business to put you wise, but I'll tell you this: neither noise nor smartness is good enough for Hallowell and Smiths'. Look out o' that window. You see that edifice. That edifice isn't going up to be run like the one next door to it. It's a noo edifice, and it's going to be run on noo methods. You think your methods are noo. You think again. You think quite a lot. Then when it's hit you good and hard, ring me up and I'll make another date with you. You got the right look, and there might be business done between you and I yet. The door closes itself. If you hear a hiss that ain't me, but the piston. I hope you found the elevator-man courteous in his manner. You did? That's one of the things there's going to be at Hallowells'--etiquette. But unobtroosive. Not sticking out a foot on each side. You didn't observe it sticking out, did you? So. Good morning."