"No; nor second."
"They will. Did you properly play up the wisdom and glory of being
first?"
"Of course."
"Go back and tell them that Valiquet's will advertise with our
sandwiches as soon as they have prepared artistic boards. The other men
have lost the chance to be first. They are asses. Tell them so and book
them for second place. Dwell strongly on the fact that the commercial
standing of each shop will be determined by the richness of the
sandwich-boards. Tell them confidentially that Valiquet's will do some
wonderful stunts with real bronze and iridescent-glass mosaics valued at
ten thousand dollars. The firm are taking big chances with breakage in a
crowded avenue, but that's why they are on top of the heap. The
department stores might try real lace edging and gold-thread
hand-embroidery on Genoese velvet."
Valiquet's advertising campaigns were models of ultra-conservatism and
costly refinement. And now, sandwiches!
"Have you--" began young Mr. Barrett in awed tones.
"I have. Get busy! Tell them to watch. On next Monday begins the
greatest revolution in advertising this country ever experienced. We are
making history! Pledge them to advertise through us, if we deliver the
goods. It will be the only swell way. Get that?"
"Betcherlife!" And Mr. Andrew Barrett rushed off.