Princess of the 19th Century Department Store - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Inside Nash Grocery, Daisy was taking yesterday’s unsold newspapers from the paperboy.

These outdated papers were usually worthless; a large stack could be bought for very little money.

They were perfect for pasting into paper bags and using as outer packaging.

After counting them, she handed the paperboy another two farthings. “Give me a copy of today’s The Times as well.”

Once she took the newspaper from him, Daisy lowered her head and began to read.

With a single glance, she spotted the front-page news.

It was the Tower Bridge Murder Case. As time passed, the outside media had been paying more and more attention to the case.

She did not read it closely before putting the paper down. Just then, a familiar-looking customer walked in through the door.

It was the owner of Joel’s Coffee Shop on Dorothy Street.

Mr. Joel stood outside and closed his umbrella, his gaze faintly disdainful as he looked over the cramped little shop.

Although he also ran a cheap coffee shop in a slum district like Dorothy Street in the East End, the coffee shop earned a net profit of fifty pounds a month, so he considered himself firmly middle class.

His family lived in a terraced apartment in Bloomsbury, and he usually bought daily necessities from large general stores in the West End.

If not there, then from Piero’s Grocery on Jude Road.

A tiny grocery like the one before him was usually only visited by workers and people who lived nearby.

Joel did not want anyone to see him here.

Daisy, however, greeted him as naturally as could be. “What can I get you, Mr. Joel?”

Joel entered the shop and looked around. When he saw the narrow counter in front of him held nothing but a plate of cookies, his eyes immediately fixed on them.

“I’m here to buy some Diamond Cookies. That’s what they’re called, right?”

Daisy nodded and picked up the plate from the counter.

“That’s right. These are the ones. You can try one first.”

Mr. Joel looked at them. These were exactly the cookies Fred had handed out to them in the back kitchen that morning.

They were triangular, somewhat thick, with a soft, crumbly, savory texture. A layer of coarse sugar coated the surface like crushed diamonds, which was why they were called Diamond Cookies.

Because he had never seen anything like them before, he had tried one. After eating it, however, he had thought about it all morning. That flavor truly lingered in the memory.

These cookies were definitely not factory goods from the market, and none of the nearby dessert shops carried this style. They had to be homemade by the Nash family.

He wanted to buy some back and study them, to figure out how they were made. If he could work out the recipe, he could sell them at the coffee shop.

As an old hand at business, he knew from one bite that cookies with this texture would absolutely be popular served with coffee.

Still, when he thought of his purpose, he felt inexplicably puzzled.

He was a fairly successful proprietor, yet here he was, forced to come to a place like this to steal ideas.

Joel kept his expression perfectly composed and opened his wallet. “No need to taste them. How much per pound?”

“We don’t sell them by the pound. Seven pence a bag.”

Daisy brought over a bag of cookies she had just wrapped and placed it on the scale for him to see.

Mr. Joel did not care about a few pence. Looking at the bag, he saw there was not much in it.

“I’ll take four bags.”

“Your family makes these yourselves?”

“Yes,” Daisy replied.

It was not as though she had failed to notice Joel’s manner. One glance was enough to tell what he was scheming.

But this was not a television drama, where something could be replicated just because someone said so.

In baking, every step mattered: selecting the ingredients, setting the proportions, the method of preparation, and the baking time. The slightest deviation could lead to a completely different result.

By the time he managed to fumble his way into making a similar cookie, Daisy dared say she would already have updated and improved her own version.

Once imitators fell into the trap of imitation, they would only ever be able to trail behind her.

Daisy quickly packed up four bundles of cookies, tied them together with twine, and handed them over.

“I recommend brewing a cup of hot cocoa to go with these cookies. The flavor is at its very best that way.”

Joel was thoroughly put off by the cramped little place and felt it was not somewhere someone like him ought to linger, but he still maintained a proper demeanor.

“Then get me a tin.”

Daisy smiled and nodded with practiced politeness, then searched the counter and took out a tin of cocoa powder from an older batch.

After paying fifty pence, he left carrying an old newspaper bag.

In the kitchen, Mary was still baking these cookies. The family’s small oven could bake two pounds of cookies in an hour.

Since the previous night, Mary had been making them strictly according to the recipe. By morning, she had already produced six pounds of Diamond Cookies.

Seeing that it was raining outside, Mary thought business would certainly be slower than usual. Inwardly, she guessed that baking this much today was surely enough to sell.

After she cleaned the tools, warmed the goat’s milk for today’s two babies, and fed them, Daisy’s busy voice sounded again from beyond the curtain.

It had rained in the morning, and customers were sparse at the moment, so Daisy began tinkering with goods other than food.

She had used discounts to clear out old stock, and now even Lobit was following her example, willing to sell at a loss just to keep up.

Since that was the case, Daisy no longer planned to rely purely on special prices. She wanted to see whether Lobit could continue copying her.

She planned to clear out the best-positioned shelf and create a three farthings budget goods section.

For goods that could be divided up, she would use special white paper to package them into small portions just enough for one or two uses, then price them extremely low.

These three farthings goods were cheap and brought in only a thin profit, but there was definitely money to be made. In fact, they were even more expensive than buying by the full pound.

However, most customers did not calculate by weight. Even the poorest people on Clark Street could easily pull out several three farthings coins.
It was a little like how people would happily buy a pile of things priced at nine-ninety-nine, yet hesitate over something that cost a hundred.

Before long, Daisy had cleared out the three best compartments at the back.

In order, she sorted all the foods that could be divided up-candies, floral teas, dried lemon slices, cocoa powder, coffee powder, preserved fruit and dried goods-and packaged them into small bags of a few ounces each.

For things like tea leaves and coffee, which were afraid of damp, she only packed enough to sell for one day.

Then she arranged them neatly in paper boxes and slid the boxes into the cabinet.

She also wrote up a product list for the Three-Farthing Section, intending to paste it on the counter so customers could choose what they wanted the moment they came in.

After more than an hour, once everything had been divided and packed, several customers came in together and asked to buy Diamond Cookies.

These women were part-time workers hired by the small restaurant.

Their shift ran from five in the morning to ten, serving the busiest breakfast crowd, and they had just gotten off work.

Without a doubt, this group had also come for the Diamond Cookies, which resembled French pastries, after tasting them that morning.

However, after Daisy told them the price, some backed off awkwardly, some began to hesitate, some reached for their purses, and some tried to bargain with her.

For a moment, the whole room grew noisy.

Daisy did not panic. Generously, she gave each of them a sample piece, cleared her throat, and said,

“Aside from the Diamond Cookies, there are two other kinds of biscuits. One is an ordinary sweet hard biscuit, seven pence a pound.

“The other is a cocoa-flavored honey biscuit, ten pence a pound. These are also new arrivals and are perfect for afternoon tea.

“The shop also has bagged floral Indian black tea. Each bag is only three farthings and can be brewed twice.”

She handed the product list for the Three-Farthing Section to the people in front of her and pointed to the tea and snack section.

“Lemon slices, cinnamon powder, and cocoa powder are also three farthings a bag, enough for one serving.”

As she spoke, someone asked about the floral tea, so Daisy randomly opened a sample pack of Osmanthus Assam and a pack of Darjeeling Rose and passed them over for the women to smell.

After being scented overnight, the tea leaves had picked up a faint floral fragrance that could be clearly detected.

The women who worked at the restaurant usually only drank tea dregs. Now, seeing that the bags contained proper tea leaves with visible strands, not just scraps, with no added dye, enough to brew a large pot or two small cups, plus a floral aroma and scattered bits of dried fruit, they immediately felt it was a very good deal.

Buying a slightly more expensive biscuit suddenly did not seem like much.

Under Daisy’s calm, unhurried guidance, the women formed a line and chose what they wanted one by one.

“I want one bag of Diamond Cookies, one bag of Darjeeling tea, one bag of cocoa powder, and some lemon slices,” said the dishwasher in the blue dress at the front of the line.

In her mind, she was already imagining herself going home, drinking black tea scented with roses and eating a small plate of uniquely flavored Diamond Cookies. It would cost less than ten pence.

That was not an indulgence she could enjoy in a real pastry shop.

Daisy acknowledged her and took out an old newspaper bag, then placed the various prepackaged little bags inside as if filling a prescription.

“That comes to nine pence and one farthing. If you buy up to ten pence, I’ll give you a bag of raisins as a gift. How does that sound?

“You can choose one more item priced at three farthings. I recommend the cinnamon powder.

“It can be brewed together with the cocoa powder. I heard it’s all the rage in Paris.”

The customer nodded without even thinking, so Daisy added a bag of cinnamon powder and the raisins to her bag.

Most of the women behind her in line made similar choices, and the average spending per person rose above fifteen pence.

The floral teas were sold regardless of origin at eleven grams per bag. One pound could be divided into forty bags, each sold for three farthings, for a total of thirty pence.

That earned over ten pence more than selling a whole pound in one package.

As for the other powders, their weights varied. Daisy had brewed and tasted a cup of each in advance, then bagged them according to the concentration that produced the most balanced flavor.

For example, cocoa powder with a cost price of twenty pence per pound had originally sold for twenty-two pence a full tin.

Now, one pound could be divided into forty-five bags and sold for thirty-three pence.

Even including the brand-new white paper used for packaging, the profit was still as high as ten pence.

Three farthings looked like very little, but in reality, it was the most profitable way to sell.

After serving this batch of customers, total sales came to one hundred and five pence.

It did not look like much, but because the customers received less actual product, the net profit was twice as high as the usual twenty-five percent.

In other words, out of one hundred and five pence, she could easily earn half.

Daisy thought to herself that this operation was far more difficult than simply offering a discount promotion.

From pricing and portion sizes to product quality, everything had to be calibrated just right.

Only then would customers find nothing to complain about and willingly hand over their money.

However, this method was only suitable for goods that felt just a little expensive to the target customers.

It was suited for low-wage earners who occasionally wanted to reward themselves.

As for normal household necessities like rice, flour, grain, and oil, those still had to be sold through promotions with small profits and high turnover.

If she tried any crooked tricks with basic livelihood goods and got caught by an inspector, that would be no joke.

Across two lifetimes in business, what she relied on was being a law-abiding good citizen and doing everything she could within the rules.

After locking the small drawer, Daisy turned and walked back into the kitchen.

…

: