Aren't you about due for a vacation? Why don't you take a run up
here? I'd enjoy a chin-fest. The fishing's good, too--and we are
long on rather striking scenery. Do come up for a week, when you
can get off. Meantime, by-by.
Tommy Thompson laid down the letter and stared out over the roof-tops. He
couldn't afford to be a philanthropist. A rather sweeping idea had
flashed into his mind as he read that missive. His horizon was
continually expanding. Money, beyond cavil, was the key to many doors, a
necessity if a man's eyes were fixed upon much that was desirable. If he
could make money selling machines for Groya Motors Inc., why not for
himself? Why not?
The answer seemed too obvious for argument. The new car which had taken
final form in Fred Henderson's drafting room and in the Groya shop was
long past the experimental stage. All it required was financing and John
P. Henderson had attended efficiently to that. There was a plant rising
swiftly across the bay, a modern plant with railway service, big yards,
and a testing track, in which six months hence would begin an estimated
annual production of ten thousand cars a year. John P. had remarked once
to his son that for the Henderson family to design, produce, manufacture
and market successfully a car they could be proud of would be the summit
of his ambition. And the new car was named the Summit.
It was a good car, a quality car in everything but sheer bulk. Thompson
knew that. He knew, too, that people were buying motor cars on
performance, not poundage, now. He knew too that he could sell
Summits--if he could get territory in which to make sales.
He had thought about this before. He knew that in the Groya files lay
dealers' contracts covering the cream of California, Oregon and
Washington. These dealers would handle Summits. There had not seemed an
opening wide enough to justify plans. But now Tommy's letter focused his
vision upon a specific point.
If he could get that Vancouver territory! Vancouver housed a hundred
thousand people. A Vancouver agency for the Summit, with a live man at
the helm, would run to big figures.
No, he decided, he would not hastily grasp his fountain pen and say to
Tommy Ashe, "Jump in and contract for territory and allotment, old boy.
The Summit is the goods." Not until he had looked over the ground
himself.
He had two weeks' vacation due when it pleased him. And it pleased him
to ask John P. as soon as he reached the office that very morning if it
was convenient to the firm to do without him for the ensuing fortnight.