FRANK AT THE STORE
WHEN Frank returned home and told of what had occurred in Philadelphia,
there was consternation in the Hardy family. Mr. Hardy shook his head
over and over again, and Mrs. Hardy shed bitter tears.
“I was a fool to trust Garrison,” said the disabled husband. “Now, here
he is running away while I cannot even make a search for him.”
“I am afraid that such a search would be useless,” responded his wife.
“And even if he were captured what good would it do, if he has
squandered the money?”
“No good, so far as I am concerned, my dear.” Mr. Hardy heaved a long
sigh. “Do you realize what this means for me?” he went on, bitterly.
“You will have to pay that ten thousand dollars.”
“Assuredly.”
“How much money have you in the bank, Thomas?”
“Nine thousand five hundred dollars.”
“Indeed! I thought you had more.”
“I used to have more, but the competition in business has forced me to
put in additional capital, which I took from the savings bank.”
“Then you will have to take all the money in the bank and make up five
hundred dollars besides?”
“Yes, if they call on me to make good the amount for which I went
security.”
“Can you spare the five hundred out of the business?”
At this question Mr. Hardy hung his head.
“I am afraid I cannot, Margy. Business has been very bad lately, and I
have many bills coming due inside of thirty and sixty days.”
At this candid statement Mrs. Hardy grew very pale.
“Oh, Thomas, do you mean that we—we——”
“This will drive me to the wall.” Mr. Hardy gave another sigh and his
voice shook. “I am ruined.”
“Ruined!”
“That is the one word to use. Competition has almost forced me out of
business, and this affair will take away nearly every cent I possess.”
After this confession the matter was discussed freely until Mr. Hardy
grew so feverish that his wife told him he must be quiet and left to
himself. She passed down into the sitting room and there met Frank.
“Mother, you have been crying,” said the boy, coming up and embracing
her.
“I cannot deny it, Frank; this blow is an awful one.”
“Perhaps it won’t be so bad as you think.”
The lady of the house shook her head.
“It won’t take all of father’s money, will it?”
“Every dollar, Frank.”
“But he will still have the business, won’t he?”
“Not free and clear. He will have to take out of it five hundred
dollars, and pay some bills besides.”
“That’s bad.”
“Your father says he is ruined, and I really think he is. The business
will have to be sold for what it will bring.”
“And what will father do then?”
“I am sure I don’t know. He will have to get well first.”
“I wish I could catch Jabez Garrison. I’d—I’d strangle him!”
“Frank, you mustn’t speak like that!”
“I don’t care, mother. See what mischief he has created.”
“Well, we must face the truth, Frank.” Mrs. Hardy wrung her hands. “I am
sure I do not know what we shall do.”
“I know what I am going to do, mother,” he returned, quickly. “I’ve been
thinking it over ever since I got home.”
“What is that?”
“I’m going to work.”
The fond mother smiled faintly.
“Yes; I’m afraid we shall no longer be able to support you unless you do
something.”
“I shall find something to do just as soon as I can, and bring all my
wages home to you. Maybe they won’t be much, but they’ll be something.”
The mother embraced him again.
“Frank, you are truly a son worth having. But it will be too bad to keep
you from high school.”
“Never mind; perhaps I can study at night.”
“If you do that, I’ll help you all I can. But I am sure I do not know
where you can get a position.”
“Oh, I’ll get something. But first of all, I’m going down to father’s
store and do all I can to sell what goods he has on hand.”
“Yes; I was going to ask you to do that.”
True to his word, Frank opened the store bright and early the next
morning. He felt that he must do something, and during the day cleaned
the windows and arranged the goods on the shelves and in the big
storeroom. He also called on several regular customers and asked if they
did not wish fresh supplies.
“So you are going to help your father out, eh?” said one old gentleman.
“I’m glad to see it. Yes, you can send me two bags of oats and a bushel
of corn, and also a barrel of that best flour for the house. I’ll help
you all I can.” And Frank went away delighted with the order.
But the work was not all so agreeable. Some found fault, and others said
they were buying elsewhere. Looking over the old store books, the boy
soon learned that the receipts had been falling off steadily for six
months—ever since the opposition had started.
“I guess it needs an experienced man with more capital than we now have
to make a success of this,” he reasoned, and he was correct in his
surmise. The two rivals carried big stocks, and both were very active,
consequently more than three-quarters of the business of the town and
vicinity went to them.
A few days later Mr. Hardy received a formal notification of what Jabez
Garrison had done and was told that he must “make good” without delay or
the benevolent order would sue him. Following this, Mr. Bardwell Mason
paid him a visit.
“I am very sorry this has occurred,” said the gentleman from
Philadelphia. “But business is business, and the order looks to me to
have this matter straightened out.”
“I do not see what I can do excepting to give the bank notice to hold
that money for you until we have time to look for Jabez Garrison,”
answered Mr. Hardy.
“Have you the whole amount in the bank?”
“I have it, less five hundred dollars.”
“Where is that to come from, if I may ask?”
“I own my business and this house.”
“I see. Then there will be no trouble, Mr. Hardy. I am sorry to bother
you at such a time as this. It looks like hitting a man when he is down.
But you know what these orders are. They look to me to do my duty, and
if I don’t do it some of the members will be sure to make trouble for
me.”
“They are not very benevolent in my case.”
“Well, you see, you are not a member.”
The talk was continued for a good hour, and in the end, Mr. Hardy sent a
note down to the bank introducing Mr. Mason, and relating the object of
that gentleman’s call. By this means, the account was, for the time
being, tied up so that Mr. Hardy could not touch it.
On Monday of the following week, Frank was in the store packing up a
small order for delivery, when a dapper young man entered.
“Is Mr. Hardy around?” questioned the newcomer.
“No, sir; my father is at home with a crushed foot,” answered our hero.
“How did he crush it, in the store?”
“No; he had it crushed on the railroad.”
“Oh, was he in that wreck near here?”
“He was.”
“Then I suppose he’ll soak the railroad company good for it?”
“I think he expects them to pay something.”
“I’d soak them for all I was worth,” went on the dapper young man,
sitting down across the counter. “They can stand it, and he can put in
any kind of an old bill he wants to.”
To this Frank did not answer, but continued to put up the order upon
which he had been working.
“I suppose you don’t know who I am,” went on the young man, after he had
lit a cigarette.
“I do not.”
“I’m the representative of the Blargo-Leeds Flour Company. There’s a
bill due us and I want to find out why it hasn’t been paid. Your father
promised to pay it some time ago.”
“How much is it?” asked Frank uneasily, although he knew something of
the bill already.
“Two hundred and sixty-eight dollars. It’s been due now for three
weeks.”
“Well, I’ll try to find out for you.”
“Can’t you pay it now?”
“No.”
“My firm says that bill has got to be paid inside of the next ten days.”
“Very well; we’ll try to pay it.”
“If you don’t they will sue.” The young man leaped down from the
counter. “Sure you can’t pay it now?”
“No; I haven’t the money.”
“I’ve heard your father is in a peck of trouble over some bond he went
on. I’m sorry for him. But that bill must be paid, remember that. In ten
days, or it’s a suit at law.” And lighting another cigarette, the dapper
young man hurried out as quickly as he had entered.
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