More Deadly Than The Male

"Look at these magnificent pictures. Here, children can slip over to Africa and roam about the jungle in perfect safety. They can see the wild animals, study their habits and learn how they live. The King of Beasts. Isn't that a wonderful picture? Look, Tommy, look at the tiny cubs. They're like ordinary kittens, aren't they? But they'd scratch if you met them in the jungle." He glanced at Mr Thomas. "See how interested the boy is? Every page has been planned to attract children to look further. It's scientific teaching of the highest possible standard." He turned another page. "Now, what have we here? The story of wireless, and, more interesting still, how to construct many various kinds of sets. I'm sure you, Mr Thomas, would be interested in this section. Have you ever thought of making your own wireless? These instructions are simple, and you don't have to have any previous knowledge." He made sure that Mr Thomas was looking at the coloured plates a little wistfully before turning on to another section. "Here's something that's useful to everyone in the home: the Medical section. Your kiddie might scald himself—so many kiddies do—turn to page 155 and you learn how to deal with such an emergency. Your own doctor in your own home! Isn't that something worth having? No waiting, no bills, easy reference— possibly a life saved!" He noted the slow-rising interest, but decided that neither Mr nor Mrs Thomas was as yet quite convinced, so he turned on, delighted with the sound of his own voice, pleased with the set, worn phrases which now automatically came to his lips without the need of thought. "Tommy perhaps has to write an essay on ships: here it is, all ready for him Tommy will soon be at the top of his class. Jean has a problem in arithmetic: she fords her answer here. You, Mr Thomas, want to know what will best grow in your garden: here is the whole thing ready for you in the Gardening section. A few nights' reading and Mr Thomas' garden is the envy of all his neighbours. Mrs Thomas, although you're no doubt an excellent cook, you can get new ideas from the Cookery section." He stepped hack and thumped his large fist on the back of the chair. "It's a great work! A work for every one of you. You will agree with me, I am sure, that it'd be useful to have a set of these magnificent books in your home? Can't you see how they'd help your kiddies get on and assure a sound future for them?"

Mrs Thomas stared at her husband, her eyes bright. "Ain't that a wonderful turn out, Bert?" she said. "I've never seen anything like it. What say, shall we 'ave 'em?"

"Yes, dad," the children chimed in, "let's 'ave 'em. Coo, dad, look at all them pictures . . ."

"You shut up," Mr Thomas growled. He scratched his head and fingered the specimen thoughtfully. "I'm not saying they ain't all right, but this sort of thing costs money . . ."

"Now let me explain about that," George said, with an expansive smile. "The Child's Self-Educator is in four handsome volumes. Although we're making every effort to put this work in all homes at cost price, it still needs a little effort on your part to secure it. Good things don't just fall from Heaven. I wish they did, but they don't. You have to make a small sacrifice for them." He shook his head solemnly Then, lowering his voice, he said impressively, "It's going to cost you tuppence a day."

"Tuppence a day?" Mr Thomas repeated blankly. "Wot yer mean?"

"Just that," George replied, knowing that he had reached the crucial part of the sale and moving with caution. "Consider what tuppence a day means. A shilling odd a week for your children's future success. Surely that isn't asking too much? We don't collect the money daily or weekly, of course, but monthly: five shillings a month.

"The whole work costs seven pounds, ten shillings. We're not asking you for that amount, we're asking for five shillings a month. The way to look at it is that you're going to pay tuppence a day to help your children and yourselves."

"Seven palms ten!" Mr Thomas gasped. "Not bloody likely! Not for me, chum. No, I can't afford that." He picked up the specimen and handed it to George. "Thank yer for calling, mister, but it ain't no good."

The two children immediately began an uproar, and Mrs Thomas had to drive them from the room. The small house echoed with their disappointed yells, and George became slightly flustered.

"Now, one moment, Mr Thomas," he began hurriedly, realizing that he had struck the worst kind of prospect—the man who can't afford it. "You've agreed the books are good and . . .

"The hooks're orl right, but the price ain't," Mr Thomas said, a stubborn light in his eyes. "It's no use arguing. I can't afford it, so that's that."

George stared at him helplessly, aware that Brant was watching him with a sneering grin.

"Of course you can afford it," George said warmly. "You mean you can't afford to be without it. Tuppence a day! Why, anyone can afford that."