tie him to you by that subtle form of friendliness known as Service, so that, without its really costing you much of anything, you can make him feel that he's getting double value for his money.
Service! If the Rotarians and Kiwanians had done nothing else, they would have justified themselves and made their place secure in history for all time by their insistence on the value and beauty—the, in fact, if I may without sacrilege say so, religion of Service.
Let me give you a few examples of what I have known done or have fancied might be done in the way of Service.
Take my own profession, office supplies.
Say I sell a fellow an adding-machine. Now there's nothing about the operation of it that any bright girl couldn't learn in half an hour, and as to repairs, of course no sensible office ever monkeys with them, anyway. But when a gentleman buys an adding-machine, I ask him to send the girl who's going to operate it around for a course of lessons—of course absolutely free. Then once a week for a
