The disorder everywhere apparent in the shop should first come to an end.

The present chaos of tables, chairs, bureaus, and sideboards, heaped higgledy-piggledy one upon the other--the customers edging their way between lanes of dusty furniture--must next be abolished.

So must the jumble of glass, china, curios, and lamps.

This completed, color and form would be considered, each taking its proper place in the general scheme.
To accomplish these results, all the unsalable, useless, and ugly furniture taking up valuable space must be carted away to some auction room and sold for what it would bring.

Light, air, and much-needed room would then follow, and prices advanced to make up for the loss on the "rattletrap" and the "rickety." Stuffs which had been poked away in worthless bureau drawers for years, as being too ragged even to show, were next to be hauled out, patched, and darned, and then hung on the bare white walls, concealing the dirt and the cracks.
And these improvements, strange to say--Kling being as obstinate as the usual Dutch cabinetmaker, and as set in his ways--were finally carried out; slowly at first, and with a rush later when every customer who entered the door began by complimenting Otto on the improvement.