usual, because there have been other things that had to be
attended to a good deal _more_ promptly, and there was an
uncertainty about everything lately that made whatever I
might say to you more or less guesswork. I mean about the
paper. It seems that 'cash terms' doesn't mean when the
advertising is out, after all, but _before it goes in_, and
this misunderstanding made matters about as lively as
anything you can imagine in the financial department of the
'Whole Family' office for a day or two. I think Bates was
mostly to blame, but we couldn't say anything to him because
it would expose the weakness of our capital; and then, we
_did_ tell him that we wanted to pay cash, though I am sure
he knew we understood that that meant to pay as Frisby
did--when advertising came out.
"However, we got through with it. We thought at first we'd
have to capitalize, but Barry sold a small piece of property
he had somewhere, and the rest of us skirmished about where
we could. I did not let you know, because I have made up my
mind to go through with this as I began, whatever happens.
It can't take a great deal more now until it begins to come
our way, and what you have said about sticking it out is the
right thing, and I mean to follow it to the letter. With
your money, however, it is different. That is just your own,
and as for having an interest in the paper, if I stay by it,
as I mean to, and get through safely, as I'm sure I can, you
will have that anyway. We are going right ahead now with
matter and pictures for the second and third issues, and if
it were not for the salaries and rent and incidentals we
could feel pretty easy, for Barry says he is sure we can get
'the first round of the first issue' from 'the man who
stands with his sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on the
prehistoric towel while he talks,' without the money down.
"That, of course, will be all we need, for as soon as the
first few thousand papers are out there will be plenty of
money coming in for everything. Then we can take it easier,
and, as you say, Dorry, it is worth putting up with a good
deal to be able to have means for everything afterward. We
all appreciate that, now, and Perny says he is looking
forward to the day when he can have some other kind of
dessert besides hard-baked, barber-pole ice-cream, which is
what they give us at the little table-d'hote place where we
have been eating dinner lately.
"The Colonel is as good-natured and jolly as ever. He poses
for me whenever I want him to, and allows me to lend him a
dollar now and then, which I am sure comes in handy, for the
money he is expecting hasn't come yet. We give him a little
salary now, too, though we had to insist on his taking it.
But he is enthusiastic and a great help, and deserves it. He
is getting the circulation books ready, and has bought
himself some new clothes, though, fortunately for my
picture, he doesn't always wear them.
"I am still working on it a little every day, and have been
down to the 'line' one or two evenings. For some reason,
however, the work doesn't seem to have quite the feeling the
first sketch had--I mean quite the feeling of forlornness
and destitution. Van says it's because I've seen the 'line'
lately in warm weather, when the men are only hungry and not
cold. That must be so, I think, and I am not going to finish
it entirely until it gets cold again, so I can get back all
that wretchedness we saw on last New Year's eve. Perhaps
that sounds cruel to you, but it is the artist's way to make
capital out of the emotions of others, and anyhow, dear,
this isn't like 'Prometheus Bound,' that we used to read at
school, for it does nobody any harm and may even do good.
"It's likely to be cold and bitter almost any time after the
1st of October, but it ought to be very cold,--I mean in the
picture,--and there should be snow or sleet. I think sleet
would be better--a driving, stinging sleet, and a deadly
hard look on the pavement where the light reflects. There is
something in the way a man crouches and shrinks from sleet
that you never quite get any other way. Of course, I don't
want it to sleet on those poor fellows, but I know it will,
and when it does I must be there to see it.
"You see, the boys think this is the best thing I have done,
and I can't afford to fail on it at the end, though I'd like
to have it all done by Christmas, and it may not sleet
before January, or even then. But I'm not going to worry
over it,--think about it, I mean,--for, as I said, I
wouldn't really want it to be very cold and sleet at all,
if I could help it, only I know I can't.
"How good and noble you are, Dorry! When I think about your
not having gone away this summer on my account, it makes me
ashamed of myself, for really we have had a jolly time here
in town. Van says that even if we never get anything else
out of the paper, we have had a million dollars' worth of
fun, and it's about so. I am sorry I have ever seemed
discouraged or out of patience with things, for it made you
have a lot of sympathy with me, and though I liked it, of
course, and wanted it, I knew I didn't deserve it at all.
"I am glad, though, that the struggle will be over now in a
few days. Our first advertising--the 'cash for names'--comes
out on the 15th, and the rest--the premium offers--about the
25th. Also in our own sample copies. So you see, before the
1st of October the wheels will be turning very fast. Of
course, we may not have quite the great rush we expect, but
even if only half it will be enough.
"Good-by, sweetheart. I wish we might be together these
beautiful September days. The parks are fine now in the
early morning. Next year we will get up and walk out in them
together.
"With all my heart,
"TRUE."
XV
FINAL STRAWS
One morning when the busy writer and two artists who lived and toiled
together in apartments near Union Square--now the offices of the "Whole
Family"--returned to them after a light and wholesome breakfast, they
found their stairway full of girls--girls of almost every age and
apparently of almost every station in life. There were tall girls, short
girls, slender girls, stout girls, girls of every complexion and every
manner of dress. Also, more girls were constantly coming and pressing
their way into the hall. The friends stood aghast.
Van Dorn swore under his breath.
"What is it?" whispered Livingstone, fearfully. "What have we done
now?"
A flicker of light flitted across Perner's face.
"I guess the Colonel did it," he said. "He put a line in one of the
papers last night for a few girls to help him. I suppose this is the
result."
"Do you call this a few?" gasped Livingstone.
"Well, of course we couldn't tell just how many would come. That paper
must have a good many readers. We don't have to take 'em all, you know."
Livingstone stared at the gathering of the clans helplessly.
"No," he commented; "I should think not." Then a moment later he added
thoughtfully: "I suppose all these girls have to work to live. Let's
take all of them we can, fellows."
And Van Dorn asked hopelessly:
"How are we going to get up-stairs?"
They worked their way through, at last, to the Colonel's room above. It
was filled to the edges, as were the halls and stairways outside. The
Colonel was already at his desk--his white hair tossed in every
direction and a hunted look in his eyes. About him billowed the eager
applicants, crowding and forcing their way toward the sheet of paper
upon which he was having each write her name and address, both to show
the style and rapidity of penmanship, and as a means of finding the ones
selected. The friends watched the proceedings for some moments with
interest. The girls regarded them curiously. Some of them whispered to
each other and giggled. Van Dorn wedged his way to the Colonel's elbow
and said in a subdued voice:
"Well, Colonel, this beats Gettysburg, doesn't it?"
The Colonel affected a great self-possession.
"Oh, this is nothing at all," he laughed. "I've been through this all my
life. Once I engaged five hundred girls. I won't be able to get more
than a dozen good ones out of this crowd."
"A dozen! I should think you could get a million!"
The Colonel tipped over an ink-bottle to show his superior calmness,
and a black-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl jumped back with a tiny scream. The
friends made their way to the room above, where, several hours later,
Colonel Hazard joined them, somewhat pale and worn. He had sifted out
ten good girls, he told them, after careful examination of the throng.
It was learned later that he had locked the doors below as soon as
possible to keep out the hordes that continued to come. Indeed, girls
came singly and in groups all day. Those engaged were familiarizing
themselves with the books in which names were to be entered. On
to-morrow the first advertising was to appear. Barrifield, who was
temporarily absent from the city in the interest of his employers, had
arranged before he started to have the presses going on the papers. The
end was in sight.
In fact, answers to their advertisements began to come the next
afternoon, and the proprietors were much elated. There were only a few,
to be sure,--not enough to cover the bottom of the big mail-box,--but
they indicated that their offers had been seen and appreciated. Even
Perner forgot his former misgivings and rejoiced. The answers were
coming. The paper was ready for the press. The long-looked-for hour was
at hand.
At dusk, however, came a slight shock.
Colonel Hazard came up with several letters. He remarked, handing them
to Perner:
"There are some queer people in the world. Read one or two of those
letters aloud."
Perner held one of the communications to the light. It said:
GENTLEMEN: I inclose you twenty good names of people likely
to be interested in your paper. Please send me the five
dollars as promised without delay. My birthday comes on
Saturday, and I want it before that time.
Yours hastily,
BESSIE GREEN.
"Humph! well named," said Van Dorn, while the others uttered various
exclamations. "Well, I'm sorry for Bessie, but I'm afraid she'll be
disappointed."
Perner selected another letter.
"This is from a boy," he commented; "his name is Robert Bright. You
wouldn't suspect it, however, from his communication.
"GENTLEMEN: Here are ure twentie naims. Now send mi five
dollers, and dont be so slo about it or i will have the
polese on ure track. I have ben foold one or twise by
advertisment fellers but this time i mean to have wat is
coming."
The exclamations that followed this possessed an added degree of
emphasis. Perner picked up a third letter.
"From a woman," he said.
"GENTLEMEN: I am sending the twenty names, and you don't
know how grateful I am or how happy it makes me to be able
to earn money for my little family, who are in need of the
necessaries of life. I hope you can send me the five dollars
to-night, and I am sure Heaven will reward you for your
great undertaking."
Nobody uttered a word for some moments. Then Livingstone said:
"Do you suppose there'll be many letters like that?"
And Van Dorn growled:
"Some people haven't got the sense they were born with. That
advertisement was as clear as sunlight."
"It was," said Perner; "I wrote it myself."
Nevertheless, they made up the five dollars between them and mailed a
check for it on their way to dinner. The next morning there were more
answers in the big mail-box. The bottom was quite covered with postal
cards containing lists of twenty names each.
Also, there was a letter from the man of the rolled-up sleeves, stating
that he was prepared to run some twenty thousand copies of the paper,
and would start the press upon receipt of a check for the amount. This
was a severe blow, but as the amount was comparatively small it was not
fatal. Besides, they had grown somewhat accustomed to such things. They
were not even surprised when their landlord, who, with his family,
occupied apartments in the rear, came in to demand his rent in the
middle of the month--a thing he had never dreamed of doing since the
first year of their occupancy. Not that he was at all afraid, he said,
but he was only a poor man who sublet to them, and had met with ill
fortune. Later, the Colonel came up with still further strange letters,
though none so pathetic as the one of the night before.
However, there were other complications. People in small villages were
sending lists containing the same names. Some of the lists were almost
identical. When Perner realized this he scowled anxiously, and lay down
on the couch to think.
"Good heavens! fellows," he exclaimed, "we'll ruin the nation!"
"What's the matter? What do you mean?" asked Van Dorn.
"Why, see here! People will be sending in the same names, and sending
each other's names, till they get us so mixed up we can't straighten the
thing out in a hundred years! Then they'll accuse us of fraud, and blame
each other for a lot of things, too. The result will be that they'll get
into a fight until the whole nation is in one immense wrangle. We'll
ruin the country! That's what we'll do! We'll ruin the country!"
Perner had arisen and was walking the floor excitedly.
"I tell you, Van, your 'cash for names' scheme is a fallacy! I said so
the other day, and I say so all the more now. I'll admit that I believed
in it and abetted it at first. It looked like a big thing, and we all
thought it was, but it isn't. In the first place, we can't afford it, as
I told you before. In the next place, the people don't understand it,
and we're going to be deluged with letters like those that came with the
first mail. And even if we could afford it, and even if those letters
didn't count, we can't afford to disturb the peace of the whole nation
by creating hard feelings in every village and hamlet, that will finally
end, not only with the utter ruin of our paper, but in riots and
rebellion and government interference, if not in one mighty civil war
and the total destruction of the whole English-speaking world!"
Perner's old manner--the manner in which he had set forth the scheme on
the night of the golden dinner--had returned to him. It had returned,
but with a difference: then he had been painting the glories of the
plan; now he was depicting its horrors. The ten years' business
experience had wallowed through a cloudland of dreams, but had
materialized in very harsh daylight at last. As for Van Dorn and
Livingstone, they sat gloomily silent. The Colonel was first to express
himself. He said:
"I hardly think we need to disturb ourselves so seriously. At the rate
the replies are coming I should say that there is no immediate danger of
upsetting the universe with our plans. We have received a number, it is
true, but unless there is a marked increase to-morrow, I may safely
reduce my force of assistants by one half."
"You don't think, then, we'll get a hundred thousand lists of twenty
names each in reply to our 'cash for names' advertisement?" Perner
asked--somewhat relieved, it would seem.
"I don't think we'll get to exceed _five_ thousand."
In fact, they received somewhat less than one thousand, and the original
twenty thousand papers were found sufficient. These, though paid for
with some degrees of promptness, were not immediately forthcoming. It is
the printer's way. The "man with his sleeves rolled up" does not hasten
in the process of "wiping his hands on the cheerless towel" even after
the requested check has been received and cashed. Though pleaded for,
argued for, demanded at last violently, the "first round of the first
issue" did not arrive until the morning of the 24th, at which time
Colonel Hazard put on sufficient force to dispose of them in one day.
And so the "first round of the first issue" was out at last. Also, on
to-morrow their premium advertisements would appear. The dice which they
had been jingling so merrily for the better part of a year they had
cast, finally, on the round green table of the world.
XVI
AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW
They were elated to find a subscription in the big mail-box on the
following morning; at least, Perner and Van Dorn were, and Livingstone,
though less demonstrative, seemed also gratified. Few, if any, of the
sample copies could have reached their destination, and it must have
been an early riser indeed who had already seen their advertising and
forwarded a subscription. When the letter was found to be from one
Dorothy Castle of Cleveland, the wonder grew.
"She must have got hold of an advance copy," commented Perner. "You came
from Cleveland, Stony; do you know any Castles out there?"
Livingstone thought hard, and admitted that the name sounded familiar;
his people might know her.
Then there was a careful examination of the precious document by each in
turn.
"I'll bet that's a bully girl!" decided Van Dorn, with emphasis. "I can
tell by the handwriting."
"She is that," agreed Livingstone.
"Let's have it framed and hung up as a souvenir," suggested Perner.
"Give it to me," said Livingstone. "I have an idea."
Perner made a copy of it first for the Colonel. His enthusiasm had
returned.
"She wants a Bible," he commented. "I say, fellows, don't you think we'd
better have a thousand Bibles sent right up? That seems to be the
premium they want."
"Better wait till to-morrow," advised Van Dorn; "then we'll have the
money to pay for them with."
This seemed good advice. The rest of the day they spent between the
studios and the circulation department below. No further subscriptions
were received, however, and though they remarked to each other that of
course they did not expect them, it was evident that evening found them
somewhat more silent than usual.
They were up next morning early. Breakfast was a mere form, and
conversation difficult. They made a pretense of the usual banter, it is
true, but the laughter sounded spasmodic and strange. The long strain
upon them had told.
Perner reached the big mail-box first, and struck it with his foot. It
rang hollow. He peered down through the long opening in the top.
"Empty," he said; "postman hasn't come yet. Perhaps there's such a lot
it delayed him, or they're sending it in a special sack."
"Maybe the Colonel's already got it," suggested Van Dorn.
They ran up the stairs like boys. Colonel Hazard sat at his desk, his
assistants ranged about a long table behind him. Some of them were idle.
The others were entering a few belated lists of names.
"Mail come?" panted Livingstone, breathlessly.
The Colonel nodded.
"Came just as I did. Met the postman in the hall. Several lists of
twenty names each, and two subscriptions--two very nice subscriptions,
gentlemen, one from a sample copy, one from the advertisement in the
'Home.' We shall do nicely, gentlemen, when we get to going. It takes
patience, of course, and capital; but we shall succeed with time and
perseverance."
They dragged up the next flight to the studios. When they were inside,
and the door closed, Van Dorn said:
"Do you know, the Colonel's getting so he makes me tired!"
"I guess he never heard of a man named Frisby," said Livingstone.
"I'll tell you," said Perner, "it's too soon. The paper just got out
yesterday. People have to have a chance to read it, first, then to buy a
money-order and a stamp. Even those that live nearest couldn't get
their subscriptions in much before to-night."
"But the ones we've already got did," observed Livingstone, gloomily.
"And Frisby got in a thousand dollars the first day after his
advertising appeared," remembered Van Dorn.
"Oh, well, that probably meant the _second_ day. I'll bet he didn't
count the first day at all. Of course he didn't."
Livingstone suddenly brightened.
"Perhaps that wasn't all the mail; maybe they're bringing the rest of it
in a sack."
There was a perceptible revival at this suggestion. Perner even became
merry.
"Maybe in pots," he said,--"pots of gold!"
And Van Dorn, looking out of the window, remarked:
"We're like Frisby in one respect, anyway. He didn't have a dollar when
his first subscription came--not a dollar!"
But the sack did not appear--nor the pots. Neither did they receive any
further subscriptions on _that_ day. By night it was almost impossible
to see humor in the situation, which shows that the bohemian spirit must
have reached a very low ebb indeed.
On the following morning they did not think it worth while to go to
breakfast, but waited at the foot of the stairs in a body for the
postman. He came after what seemed an endless period, and brought quite
a bundle of mail. There were a number of twenty-name lists and a
quantity of circulars, also one subscription.
Even the Colonel appeared somewhat depressed at this falling off of a
clean fifty per cent. in the returns, while the proprietors ascended to
the floor above in silence. Perner fell into a chair and rocked gently.
Van Dorn stared out of the window, as was his wont. Livingstone walked
over and stood before his picture of the bread line.
All at once Perner began to laugh violently. The others turned and
stared at him. He rocked harder and laughed louder. The faces of
Livingstone and Van Dorn became really concerned. The latter said
soothingly:
"Oh, come, old man, that won't do. You're overworked and nervous. You
must take it calmly, you know."
But Perner only rocked and laughed more wildly. Finally he gasped out:
"I'm all right! I haven't got 'em! But _four subscriptions_! A year's
work for four men, and one subscription apiece to show for it! The
mountain rocked and groaned and brought forth a mouse! Oh, Lord! Ten
years' business experience and four subscriptions! Twelve months' hard
labor for two well-known artists, several thousand dollars in cash, and
four subscriptions!"
He reeled off into another wild fit of merriment, and this time the
others joined him. The humor of it had seized them all. Van Dorn toppled
over on the couch. Livingstone lay down on a prayer-rug to laugh.
"Four subscriptions!" they shouted. "And Frisby got in a thousand
dollars the first day. Cash paid for names, and four subscriptions! The
crown-jeweled watch! The marvelous cracker-jack, double-rack, Hackensack
camera! Money for Christmas shopping, and checks mailed promptly! Oh,
Lord! Oh, Lord!"
They were not so far from hysteria, after all. When at last they could
laugh no more, they were weak and exhausted.
"How about our steam-yacht, and houses on Fifth Avenue?" asked Van Dorn,
and this was followed by a feeble aftermath of mirth.
"I'm glad we didn't take vacations," said Perner; "we'll enjoy them so
much more next year, when we can go in style."
Livingstone said nothing, and his face had saddened. Presently one of
the girls from below entered with a letter. It was postmarked at
Chicago, and they recognized Barrifield's handwriting. It was addressed
to Perner. He read it aloud:
"DEAR PERNY AND ALL: You will have things fairly under way
by the time you get this, and we will be already as good as
millionaires.
"Humph! Yes," commented Perner. "_Better_ than some millionaires, I
hope!
"The subscriptions will be pouring in--"
"See 'em pour!" interrupted Van Dorn.
"and the premiums going out in a steady stream."
At this there was a general yell and another fit of laughter.
"I am sorry," the letter continued, "that we adopted that
watch, however, for I have found a much better one here, and
have got on the 'inside.' I have sent on a number of them,
which you can use where people call in person for their
premiums."
"They'll call," said Livingstone. "'Line forms up on the right. Come
early to avoid the rush.'"
"I have sent them to you C.O.D."
Perner gaped up at the others.
"Oh, he has! He's sent them C.O.D.! Um! well, I don't think we'll use
many of those watches--not _this_ week.
"I am anxious to know, of course, just how matters are
going, and if we beat Frisby the first day. Wire me to this
address just what we did and are doing. I will be with you
in a few days more."
"We'll wire him," grunted Van Dorn. "The wire'll be so hot he'll dance
when it touches him. Beat Frisby! Oh, yes; we'll wire him!"
They did, in fact, at once, and within the hour received Barrifield's
reply. It was conveyed in a single brief word:
CHICAGO, October 27, 1897.
_To the "Whole Family," New York._
Capitalize!
(Signed)
BARRIFIELD.
Perner read it, and it was handed to each of the others in turn. Then
they looked at each other. Van Dorn said pleasantly:
"Why, yes; that's so. Capitalize! I hadn't thought of that. Stony, get
up here and capitalize!"
Livingstone dug down in his pockets and brought up fifty-six cents.
"All right," he said. "That's every nickel I've got in the world. Let's
capitalize!"
Almost immediately there came another telegram from Barrifield.
_To the "Whole Family," New York._
Don't sell any of my stock.
(Signed)
BARRIFIELD.