Bob staid a long time. Neither did he move as swiftly on his return trip
as he had when he started out.
"I'll tell you what it is, John," he said, at the first opportunity,
"we'll have to take in some outside partners, after all. A couple of the
Flemings could help us first-rate. They always have their meals later
than we do."
"Well," said John, "I don't know but it would be a good thing to have
somebody to share the responsibility."
"But I don't see how we can make room for any more boys inside here.
It's crowded enough now."
"We don't all need to be inside at once. One could be floor-walker, and
one a detective, or something in the crowd. I'd like it. It's tiresome
sitting in this little place all day. I got awfully cramped this
morning."
So overtures were made to Tom and Fred Fleming, who felt quite
flattered, and accepted the honor at once. After some discussion they
were installed as silent partners, and contributed their quota of
fish-hooks and decalcomanie pictures, etc., to the now flourishing
business.
The shop being so near, Aunt Sue and Bessie visited it in the afternoon
to see how the boys were getting on. They were shocked to see some of
their own possessions airing in the new store. An old set of false curls
hung dangling on a nail, like a scalp adorning an Indian wigwam as an
honorable trophy.
[Illustration: "'YOU OUTRAGEOUS BOYS!' EXCLAIMED AUNT SUE."]
"You outrageous boys!" exclaimed Aunt Sue, as she seized and confiscated
it. "Where did you get this?"
"Out of the attic," said Bob, meekly. "I thought you were done with it."
"But it's not for sale if I am done with it. I'm surprised at you."
Aunt Sue seemed really hurt, and was scarcely mollified by Bob's saying,
coaxingly, "Oh, now, Aunt Sue, don't be vexed. I always liked to see
them hanging down your neck. They looked so pretty, I thought somebody
else might be glad to get them."
By this time Bessie had discovered a tin-type of herself among a lot of
cheap pictures, and her wrath burst forth on John, who was just
congratulating himself on having escaped his aunt's wrath.
"I'd like to know what right you have to offer my picture for sale," she
said, indignantly.
"It's not yours. It's mine. You gave it to me on my birthday."
"And that's all you care for it! I'll be careful how I ever give my
picture to another boy. Give it to me this minute."
"Why, no, Bess. It shows how much we admire it. Other folks do too. I
had an offer for it this morning, but I couldn't make the change."
Bessie's eyes flashed; and Aunt Sue, coming to the rescue, quietly laid
the picture in her bag with the curls.
"I think you had better show us your whole stock, boys," she said,
calmly. "What are your skates doing here?"
"I'm going to sell them. I'd rather have a bicycle than skates any day."
"Very well; only if you part with them don't expect to have a new pair
given to you when winter comes. What books have you? Why, boys, you are
not going to sell your dictionary!"
"Oh, I'm tired of looking through it. The old bother!"
"It must be taken home," said Aunt Sue, with decision. "It won't do to
have your father's dictionaries thumbed and dog-eared in this way. You
must keep your own."
The boys were beginning to think that the custom of their immediate
relatives was not going to be profitable. But the seizures were over
now, and Aunt Sue actually bought in John's old copy of _Original
Poems_. Bessie, too, concluded to be forgiving, and she and Aunt Sue
made several other purchases, so that they left the boys in good spirits
in spite of the bad beginning.
In the trying morning hours the boys had decided to close early every
Saturday afternoon "for the sake of their clerks." But they felt better
after the Flemings came to their assistance, and did not close until six
o'clock, when everything had to be packed in boxes and carried home
until Monday. Before doing this, however, they took an account of stock
and balanced their accounts, which was a comparatively simple matter, as
they sold nothing on credit. Aunt Sue had bought half their supply of
bird-seed, and Molly Fleming had taken all the bouquets at half price to
distribute in the infant school the next morning. The boys spent the
evening in talking over the events of the day.
"If we did so well on the first day, what may we not expect on the
second?" was the feeling with which the young merchants began business
on Monday. But Monday brought new trials. The goods had all to be packed
away, and the store closed by school-time, which seemed rather
humiliating. Of course the boys intended to resume punctually at twelve
o'clock. But how unlucky! They all unaccountably missed their lessons,
and were kept in to correct them, so that they lost the whole of their
noon trade.
Perhaps this only gave greater zest to the afternoon spell, for they
kept open quite late that evening. Still, with all their devotion,
business flagged. Infant schools could not absorb a stock of bouquets
every day, and Aunt Sue had enough bird-seed to last her a week. The
sour-ball business proved to be quite a losing one, for the luscious
things melted away mysteriously even when kept in the shade, although
each partner kept a strict watch on himself, and seldom, oh, very
seldom, refreshed himself with one.
Things got so serious that the four partners held a business meeting
that evening after the store closed.
"We've got to do something, boys, or we'll break before the week's out,
sure as fate," said Fred Fleming.
By Tuesday the boys had that care-worn look that men acquire when they
can't make both ends meet. The other boys really pitied them, and some
of them actually bought slate-pencils on their way to school in the
afternoon, though they did not need them.
That very afternoon an occurrence took place which threatened to end the
boys' store-keeping quite tragically.
An organ grinder, with his red-coated monkey, planted himself just
beside the pile of lumber and began to play. This pleased Tom and Bob,
who happened to be in sole charge at the time. They enjoyed a monkey's
antics as well as any one.
Perhaps it was the flag waving over the sign of the "Stanley Brothers"
that suggested to the man to play "Rally round the Flag, Boys." He
played it with a will, and the boys, and girls too, rallied with a
vengeance. The young merchants found their store again a grand centre of
attraction.
The monkey seemed particularly delighted with it, for, after dancing and
bowing on the organ-top a short time, he leaped upon the counter, and
before the proprietors knew what he was about he had thrust his paw into
the box of rubber balls, and was throwing a ball into the crowd.
A shout of delight greeted this feat. Tom and Bob each made a dive after
the monkey, but he dexterously eluded them, and threw another ball.
Of course the balls were thrown back at him, and in a moment the air
seemed full of them, flying in every direction. The boys could not turn
their heads but bounce would come a ball into their eyes, and if they
tried to say, "You rascal," the words would be cut short by a ball
flying into their mouths. The uproar was tremendous, and the crowd grew
larger every minute. The monkey seemed to be in his element, dancing and
jumping from shelf to shelf, grinning and chattering with all his might,
and when there was no ball convenient he did not hesitate to throw
something else.
The boys grew desperate when they saw their slate-pencils and
Jew's-harps flying through the air.
"See here!" they shouted to the organ-grinder, who was now peacefully
playing the "Marseillaise Hymn," "this thing is getting dangerous. Take
your old monkey away, will you? You'll have to pay for all the damage.
Do you hear?"
It would have been surprising if he had heard in all that uproar, but he
gave no sign.
Tom made another lunge at the monkey, and fell sprawling over the
counter. Then Bob dived at him, but the monkey, reaching down from a
high perch, deftly lifted Bob's hat, and threw it into the crowd.
"You rascal. I'll pay you for this," screamed Bob.
But the next thing the monkey did was to plant himself on Bob's head.
Bob, with his face as red as the monkey's coat, clutched wildly at him,
but the monkey clutched the tighter.
Bob could do nothing but scream and beat at the mischievous animal,
first with one hand, then with the other, then with both at once, while
the crowd shouted with laughter, until the organ-grinder, seeing that
his monkey was really in danger, stopped his music, called off his pet,
and began to move away. Then the crowd of children dispersed.
John and Fred, who had been taking their turn "off" when these
proceedings began, now made their way to their crest-fallen comrades.
Bob was too angry to make any attempt to collect his property. He picked
up his battered hat and walked home, saying, "I don't care what becomes
of the old things. I've done with them."
A few of their friends were kind enough to assist them in the search,
but it was a sorry-looking set of goods that were collected.
"They're half of them gone," said Tom. "I do believe that monkey went
off with his cheeks and pockets full of our things."
"I'll have that man prosecuted," said John, fiercely. "Which way did he
go?"
"Oh, he's more likely to prosecute us. He says Bob half killed his
monkey."
Sadly the boys packed up their damaged goods and carried them home,
protesting that they had had enough of store-keeping. The monkey had
scratched Bob's head so hard that he was really suffering, and Bess had
to run for the arnica bottle, and bandage his head.
Aunt Sue was particularly liberal with the cake and preserves that
evening at tea, and if anything could have comforted the boys, it was
such thoughtfulness.
[Illustration: A FLIRTATION.]