"Door-to-door."
He made a face. "Never build up any volume. Unless it did something
extra. You say we'd put color in it. How about enough color to leave
your face looking tanned. Men won't use cosmetics and junk, but if they
didn't have to admit it, they might like the shave lotion."
Hilary had been deep in thought. He said suddenly, "Gosh, I think I know
how to make a--what do you want to call it--a before-shave lotion."
"What would that be?" I asked.
"You'd use it before you shaved."
"I suppose there might be people who'd prefer to use it beforehand," I
conceded.
"There will be people," he said darkly, and subsided.
Mrs. Miller came out to the barn after a while, bringing a bucket of
soft drinks and ice, a couple of loaves of bread and ingredients for a
variety of sandwiches. The parents had agreed to underwrite lunches at
the barn and Betty Miller philosophically assumed the role of
commissary officer. She paused only to say hello and to ask how we were
progressing with our organization meeting.
I'd forgotten all about organization, and that, according to all the
articles I had perused, is most important to such groups. It's standard
practice for every member of the group to be a company officer. Of
course a young boy who doesn't know any better, may wind up a sales
manager.
Over the sandwiches, then, I suggested nominating company officers, but
they seemed not to be interested. Peter Cope waved it off by remarking
that they'd each do what came naturally. On the other hand, they
pondered at some length about a name for the organization, without
reaching any conclusions, so we returned to the problem of what to make.
It was Mary, finally, who advanced the thought of kites. At first there
was little enthusiasm, then Peter said, "You know, we could work up
something new. Has anybody ever seen a kite made like a wind sock?"
Nobody had. Pete drew figures in the air with his hands. "How about the
hole at the small end?"
"I'll make one tonight," said Doris, "and think about the small end.
It'll work out all right."
I wished that the youngsters weren't starting out by inventing a new
article to manufacture, and risking an almost certain disappointment,
but to hold my guidance to the minimum, I said nothing, knowing that
later I could help them redesign it along standard lines.
* * * * *
At supper I reviewed the day's happenings with Marjorie and tried to
recall all of the ideas which had been propounded. Most of them were
impractical, of course, for a group of children to attempt, but several
of them appeared quite attractive.
Tommy, for example, wanted to put tooth powder into tablets that one
would chew before brushing the teeth. He thought there should be two
colors in the same bottle--orange for morning and blue for night, the
blue ones designed to leave the mouth alkaline at bed time.
Pete wanted to make a combination nail and wood screw. You'd drive it in
with a hammer up to the threaded part, then send it home with a few
turns of a screwdriver.
Hilary, reluctantly forsaking his ideas on detergents, suggested we make
black plastic discs, like poker chips but thinner and as cheap as
possible, to scatter on a snowy sidewalk where they would pick up extra
heat from the sun and melt the snow more rapidly. Afterward one would
sweep up and collect the discs.
Doris added to this that if you could make the discs light enough to
float, they might be colored white and spread on the surface of a
reservoir to reduce evaporation.
These latter ideas had made unknowing use of some basic physics, and I'm
afraid I relapsed for a few minutes into the role of teacher and told
them a little bit about the laws of radiation and absorption of heat.
"My," said Marjorie, "they're really smart boys and girls. Tommy Miller
does sound like a born salesman. Somehow I don't think you're going to
have to call in Mr. Wells."
I do feel just a little embarrassed about the kite, even now. The fact
that it flew surprised me. That it flew so confoundedly well was
humiliating. Four of them were at the barn when I arrived next morning;
or rather on the rise of ground just beyond it, and the kite hung
motionless and almost out of sight in the pale sky. I stood and watched
for a moment, then they saw me.
"Hello, Mr. Henderson," Mary said, and proffered the cord which was
wound on a fishing reel. I played the kite up and down for a few
minutes, then reeled it in. It was, almost exactly, a wind sock, but the
hole at the small end was shaped--by wire--into the general form of a
kidney bean. It was beautifully made, and had a sort of professional
look about it.
"It flies too well," Mary told Doris. "A kite ought to get caught in a
tree sometimes."
"You're right," Doris agreed. "Let's see it." She gave the wire at the
small end the slightest of twists. "There, it ought to swoop."
Sure enough, in the moderate breeze of that morning, the kite swooped
and yawed to Mary's entire satisfaction. As we trailed back to the barn
I asked Doris, "How did you know that flattening the lower edge of the
hole would create instability?" She looked doubtful.
"Why it would have to, wouldn't it? It changed the pattern of air
pressures." She glanced at me quickly. "Of course, I tried a lot of
different shapes while I was making it."
"Naturally," I said, and let it go at that. "Where's Tommy?"
"He stopped off at the bank," Pete Cope told me, "to borrow some money.
We'll want to buy materials to make some of these kites."
"But I said yesterday that Mr. McCormack and I were going to advance
some cash to get started."
"Oh, sure, but don't you think it would be better to borrow from a bank?
More businesslike?"
"Doubtless," I said, "but banks generally want some security." I would
have gone on and explained matters further, except that Tommy walked in
and handed me a pocket check book.
"I got two hundred and fifty," he volunteered--not without a hint of
complacency in his voice. "It didn't take long, but they sure made it
out a big deal. Half the guys in the bank had to be called in to listen
to the proposition. The account's in your name, Mr. Henderson, and
you'll have to make out the checks. And they want you to stop in at the
bank and give them a specimen signature. Oh, yes, and cosign the note."
My heart sank. I'd never had any dealings with banks except in the
matter of mortgages, and bank people make me most uneasy. To say nothing
of finding myself responsible for a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar
note--over two weeks salary. I made a mental vow to sign very few
checks.
"So then I stopped by at Apex Stationers," Tommy went on, "and ordered
some paper and envelopes. We hadn't picked a name yesterday, but I
figured what's to lose, and picked one. Ridge Industries, how's that?"
Everybody nodded.
"Just three lines on the letterhead," he explained. "Ridge
Industries--Ridgeville--Montana."