A GREAT MAN
SIMPLICITY is the essence of greatness, and it was by a stroke simple, and yet grandiose, that Mr., Marlin established himself as the leading citizen of our hamlet. When Mr. Marlin took over the shop (we have only the one) the business was not flourishing. The old woman who for years had sold stamps and grocery had been a profound disbeliever in progress. She had never, in the language of our hamlet, obliged anyone, and she would often deny that she stocked a commodity in order to slake a growing passion of malignity. A nasty old woman, a frowsy old woman ; she would have loved to haunt the shop, to hide the stamps and turn the jam mouldy, to melt the butter and mislay the postal orders, but Mr. Marlin saw to it that the shop, in his hands, was no place for ghosts.
Frankly we did not expect much of Mr. Marlin, and he disappointed even our small expectations by his unosten- tatious arrival. One day he was not there ; the next • he was making a vigorous onslaught on the accumulated ' grime of a generation. Apparently there was no Mrs. Marlin ; certainly there were no little Marlins. Within a week the shop window had changed miraculously. Piles of inviting tins rose in the middle. Apples and oranges were ranged on either side ; there was a loaf a little in the background. From a rod stretching midway across the window were suspended inviting looking joints of pork. Sacks of potatoes and baskets of sprouts flanked the doorway. But we never do things rashly in our hamlet. We were not entirely dependent on Mr. Marlin. Less than two miles away was our market town, and although in winter it was sometimes incon- venient to make the journey, it had become almost a civic duty to deny Mr. Marlin's predecessor the joy of her malignant " No, never keep it !" It is true that little Mrs. Lyons (that feather head) forgot to buy flour when she went down to the town on market day and, having to throw herself on the mercy of Mr. Marlin, emerged with strange stories of the riches within, but we were not to be beguiled.
In the light of my later acquaintance (I should like to call it friendship, if that did not seem presumptuous) with Mr. Marlin, I can imagine with what care he sur- veyed his problem, for he was never a man to act rashly but, to the hamlet, his stroke came with dramatic sudden- ness—he changed the early closing day ! He was never very communicative as to the difficulties which he encountered in his capacity of tradesman and sub-post- master, and the utmost he would ever say was that it took a bit of doing. He did not advertise his intention ; merely on a Thursday afternoon it was observed that the shop was still open. The first effect of his action was not favourable. At the Black Squirrel' that night there was high debate on the subject, and Mr. Mutch, the landlord, bitterly conscious of the restrictions with which he was hedged by the law, shook his head and foresaw no good from this apparent defiance. Old Mr. Snarl, parson's warden, wondered what Tich (humorously so called from his gigantic size) was thinking of. What was perlice for ? Farmer Nuggins was inclined to be chari- table ; perhaps Tich hadn't noticed it ; everyone knew that Tich warn't one to go out of his way to notice things. Mr. Slewins, our-local poaeher, grinned slowly and winked at Mr. Mutch. Finally, the party broke up with a general agreement that it would be best to wait till next Thursday and see what happened then.
We had not to wait quite so long. On Tuesday after- noon some of us were assembled at the rectory to discuss the grave question of a parochial entertainment at the village hall (one heard such things about modern dancing) when Mrs. Berry, the doctor's wife, entered with an impatient, " I believe the new man at the shop has gone mad. He's shut on Tuesday afternoon ! " It was felt generally that we could not continue indefinitely with a shop which was shut when you expected it to be open, and open when you expected it to be shut, and I was deputed to enquire into the matter, the idea being, I suspect, that my known eccentricity would not commit the rest of the village to anything.
I confess that I was favourably impressed as soon as I entered the shop. There was something about Mr. Marlin which radiated efficiency, though he himself was- no Adonis of the grocery trade. He was a small, sandy- haired man with a broad face and a moustache utterly incongruous and yet somehow attractive in its imitation of the toothbrush variety so dear to subalterns in the War. I did not want to plunge at once into my inqui- sition and so I asked for a brand of cigarettes never previously seen in the village. He turned to a shelf behind him and handed me a packet without hesitation. It was a great moment for both of us, and within five minutes I had bought quite a number of things which I did not want, merely for the enjoyment of the smile with which he produced them from mysterious lurking places.
At last I approached the real object of my mission. " Oh, you've noticed, have you ? " he said, " just a little idea of my own. Before I came here I had a look round the town, two or three days, and I noticed what a dead and alive place it was on Thursday afternoons with everything shut. Mighty awkward, I thought, if folks wants any- thing, and that's how it came to me. If I could open when all the town shops were shut, why I could afford to shut when the town shops was open, and so I managed to work it." I confess that I stood with my mouth open, gazing in admiration at this Napoleon among village shopkeepers. How magnificent this idea of balancing his little kennel of a shop against the High Street and its subsidiaries of the market town ! I stumbled into the roadway and dropped a pound of bacon, three apples, a tin of cocoa and a pot of jam as I met the eye of Mrs.
Logan, the rector's wife. " What on earth ? " she cried. " Go in and see for yourself," I mumbled, groping for one of the apples, " it's worth it ! " • Apparently it was, for I have it on excellent authority that Mrs. Logan spent fifteen minutes in the shop and only emerged in order to make room for a positive crowd of other customers. On Thursday afternoon every house- wife in the hamlet had found occasion to make some purchase, and the praise of Mr. Marlin, at second hand, dominated that night's debate at the Black Squirrel.'
That was last year, and Mr. Marlin has never looked back ; by some means which sets at defiance all known laws of cubic capacity he is equal to any demands on his stock. I do not know whether he ever sleeps but he remains alone ; we have still to hear of a Mrs. Marlin, and although some of our village beauties have set their caps at him, I feel sure that their enterprise is in vain. Mr. Marlin's stock is paramount, and it would be impos- sible to squeeze even the smallest second person behind that counter without upsetting the whole economy of the shop. But I must go. I want— What excuse can I make for my daily visit to Mr. Marlin ? Stamps H. T. KEMBALL COOK.
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