PARTNERS
Five days later the news-stand in the lobby of the Adams Building was
ready for business.
It had all been extremely simple and easy. Mr. Strobe had not only
consented to use his influence with Mr. Adams, but had declared that
he believed the investment of thirty dollars in the enterprise to be
a good stroke of business. In fact, Jack’s father became the most
enthusiastic of the three that evening when the matter was broached
to him. If, he said, Jack didn’t want to go into partnership with Joe
he’d be glad to take a half interest himself! A news-stand in the Adams
Building ought to be a money-maker, and he wondered that someone hadn’t
thought of it before. Thereupon Joe suggested anxiously that perhaps
someone had, and wasn’t satisfied until Jack’s father had called Mr.
Adams up on the telephone and ascertained that the privilege had not
been disposed of and that Mr. Adams was quite willing to confer with
them tomorrow in the matter.
Mr. Joseph Adams was president and principal owner of the big carpet
mills and held title to much residence and store property throughout
the town. He was about forty-two years of age, a much younger man than
Joe had expected to find when, led by Mr. Strobe, they entered his
office in the new building early the next morning. The business was
completed in rather less than five minutes. Mr. Strobe stated what was
wanted, Joe answered a question as to proposed location of the stand,
they all descended to view the spot, and Mr. Adams then said: “I’m
agreeable. Rent free until the first of March. After that, eighteen
dollars a month. Keep everything clean and neat. Come around this
afternoon and I’ll have a lease ready for you.”
When they returned at half-past three Mr. Adams said: “One thing I
neglected to speak of, boys. About your counter and showcase, now;
better let me attend to those, I guess. I don’t want anything that
clashes with the finish down there. I’ve got Mayer coming here in about
ten minutes. He’s the boss-carpenter. I thought we’d decide what was
wanted and he could go ahead and put it up. The walls are cream white
down there and I think we’d ought to have the stand to match. That
suit you? What had you thought of?”
“Mahogany, sir,” replied Joe. “That is, imitation mahogany. But I think
cream white would look better.”
“I guess so. Now, look here.” Mr. Adams drew a sheet of paper towards
him and sketched roughly. “A row of shelves across to here; sliding
doors at the back; panelled in front. Then a flap counter the rest of
the way; lift it up to get in, you know; crawl under if you’d rather.
Now what about shelves at the back? Need them? They wouldn’t look well,
I guess.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Joe. “I guess we’d have room for everything
on the counter and in the showcase. I――I hadn’t thought about a
showcase, though, Mr. Adams. Won’t it cost a good deal?”
“Twelve dollars and sixty cents. I priced it. That needn’t worry you,
though; I’m paying for the whole thing.”
“Oh!” murmured Joe. “I didn’t understand.”
“That’s great!” exclaimed Jack.
Mr. Adams smiled. “Doing it for my own protection. I’d rather have
something that looked solid and substantial there. I don’t want
anything cheap, you know. Here’s Mayer now,” he added as a clerk
appeared at the door. “Let’s go down and see what’s to be done.”
Joe thought he had never encountered anyone who could rush a thing
through as Mr. Adams could. It took him about three minutes to explain
his ideas to the carpenter and when he had finished, that gentleman,
a taciturn man with a long head and a Scotch burr, could suggest no
improvements.
“All right, then,” said Mr. Adams briskly. “Get right at it, Mayer.
Have it done――when do you want it, boys?”
“Whenever it’s convenient, sir. There’s no――――”
“This is Saturday. Get it done by Wednesday, Mayer. See that you get a
good dull enamel on it, like the walls. Make a good, finished job.”
The boss-carpenter nodded. Then: “How about the light, sir?” he
inquired.
“Light? That’s so. Ought to be one back of the counter. See Purley and
Ferris about that and tell them to put up a small dome light, same
design as the others here. That’s all, I guess.”
A moment later he was being shot upwards in an elevator, Mr. Mayer was
silently measuring with a pocket rule, and Joe and Jack, their lease
in Joe’s pocket, sought the sidewalk. Outside, Jack capered gleefully.
“Nearly a month’s rent free, Joey,” he exclaimed, “and we don’t have to
pay for building the stand! He’s a brick, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” agreed Joe. “I’m wondering――――”
“What?” demanded the other impatiently.
“Well, we won’t need so much money as we thought, you see. I guess we
can get started on about half of it.”
“We’ll buy more stock!”
“N-no, we’d better start easy, as we agreed to. What I was thinking was
this, Jack. When I said I thought I could get hold of my half the money
I had Aunt Sarah in mind. I think she’d loan me thirty dollars if she
had it. But I don’t know whether she’d have that much, you see, and――――”
Jack interrupted with a laugh. “Not have thirty dollars!” he cried.
“Why, your Aunt Sarah is one of the richest women in Amesville, you
booby! Everyone knows that!”
“She is?” asked Joe in surprise. “I didn’t know it. She’s always so――so
careful――――”
“Stingy, you mean, don’t you?” laughed Jack.
“No, I don’t mean that, really. She isn’t a bit stingy. She’s just
careful. About putting the light out when you’re not using it, and
bargaining with the tradespeople, and――and like that, you know. Well,
anyway, I’d rather not ask her for the money. I’d much rather borrow it
from you. If we only need thirty dollars altogether, your share would
be fifteen and mine would be fifteen. Well, if you can take thirty out
of the savings bank you might put fifteen into the business and loan
the other fifteen to me at the regular rate of interest. Would you be
willing to do that? No matter whether the business got along or not,
I’d pay you the fifteen back, of course, because I could get it from
Aunt Sarah.”
“Sure! That’s the ticket! Only I don’t want any interest, you old
Shylock!”
“I’d rather, though. I’d pay Aunt Sarah interest, and why not you?”
Jack was hard to persuade, but Joe ultimately got him to agree. “We’ll
ask your father about it, though. If he says it’s all right――――”
“He will,” laughed Jack. “Dad thinks you’re a sort of young Napoleon
of Finance, Joey, and anything you do is all right. Fact is, I believe
he’s a bit sore because we didn’t let him in on this.”
During the succeeding four days――with the exception of Sunday――the boys
spent most of their spare time in the lobby of the Adams Building
watching the construction of the news-stand. Mr. Mayer called it a
“booth,” and since they had every wish to keep him good-humoured, they
adopted that name for it themselves. On Tuesday morning it was in place
and had received its first coat of paint. The enamel went on Tuesday
afternoon and a second coat was to be applied two days later. But as
the final application could be made while business was going on, the
boys decided to open the stand Wednesday afternoon.
Joe had already ordered a small assortment of package candies,
chewing-gum, and such things from Cincinnati, had made arrangements
with the news company for current magazines and certain out-of-town
papers, had arranged with the two Amesville journals for fifty copies
to be delivered daily, and had spent the larger part of their principal
in the purchase of cigars, cigarettes, and tobacco. Although he brought
as little of everything as he could, he discovered to his dismay that
on Wednesday morning he had but seven dollars of the original thirty
left. I don’t think either Joe or Jack did very well at lessons that
day. It was frightfully hard to keep their minds on their school work,
so impatient were they to get to the stand and start business. Joe
went over his newspaper route on Tuesday for the last time. He had some
slight misgivings about abandoning that employment, for although it
brought him but three dollars, the money was certain. However, nothing
venture, nothing have; and he was pretty certain, too, that he could
find work again with the _Recorder_ if necessary.
So just as soon as school was dismissed the two boys hurried down town
to their place of business, as Jack importantly phrased it. The counter
shone freshly white and the handsome showcase, three feet in length
by twenty-two inches in breadth, nickel-trimmed, with mirrors set in
the sliding panels at the back, had been cleaned and polished until it
was speckless. They raised the hinged end of the counter and stepped
inside. Joe turned a switch and a flood of mellow light shone down
from the neat ground-glass dome above. Many bundles had already been
unpacked and their contents stowed on the shelves under the counter,
but others awaited them, and they set to work. There was not much room
between counter and wall, but there was enough to move about in. The
counter was two feet wide, leaving the space behind it not quite three
feet. The showcase had been placed midway between wall and hinged
flap and there was two feet of solid counter on each side of it. If
necessary they could make use of the hinged portion as well and pass
under it instead of lifting it up. But at present there was plenty of
room for all their goods without availing themselves of that section.
The shelves underneath were roomy and the sliding doors were supplied
with a neat Yale lock. Joe inserted his key in it, pushed aside a panel
and revealed their store of smokers’ articles. It was a quarter to four
and they worked busily to get things in shape against the time the
occupants of the building began to leave. They expected to sell no more
today than a few evening papers, but they wanted the public to know
that the stand was opened for business.
The cigars and tobacco and cigarettes went into the case. Joe had to
do a lot of arranging before he managed to make them occupy enough of
the space to satisfy him. Even then the showcase looked pretty empty.
“We ought to have about a dozen boxes of cigars,” he said, “to make a
showing. I’ll have to spread everything out in here or else it will
look as if we didn’t have anything!”
Jack, struggling with a bundle of confectionery on the counter, grunted
assent. Joe, finally closing the showcase, pulled out a dozen or so
magazines from underneath and arranged them on the counter. Then came
the candy, most of it in half-pound boxes, and a varied assortment
of gum and enticing confections put up in tiny tin boxes. There was
some discussion as to where these things should be placed. In the end
some were put on top the showcase and the rest ranged between the
magazines and the wall. The space at the other side of the case was
reserved for newspapers and a few minutes later the fifty copies of the
_Recorder_ arrived, were paid for, and spread on the counter. With them
were a half-dozen copies of morning papers from Cleveland, Columbus,
Springfield, Sandusky, Cincinnati, and Dayton. At last everything was
in place and the boys emerged into the corridor to view the result. It
certainly looked attractive and business-like, and they were hugely
pleased. Joe rearranged the boxes of candy so that the colored tops
would show better and then Jack went back behind the counter and
between them they distributed the price cards. These were small squares
or oblongs of gray cardboard with black lettering and had been done
by the man who performed such work for Strobe and Wonson. A number of
small, weighted holders had been purchased――an extravagance that Joe
had resisted at first――and the cards were slipped between the wire
loops. Jack again emerged to view the effect.
“Looks swell, doesn’t it?” he asked. Joe agreed that it did, and one of
the elevator boys, who had been an interested observer at intervals,
now stepped from his car and joined them. He was a tall, raw-boned
youth of seventeen or eighteen, by name Martin Olson, but generally
known as Ole. Ole had a shock of carroty red hair and an unattractive
flat face liberally sprinkled with large freckles that matched his
hair. Neither Joe nor Jack had taken to Ole much, but his praise of the
news-stand now inclined them more favourably toward him.
“Best looking little shop in town,” he announced enthusiastically.
“That’s a swell glass case you’ve got there, too.” He examined the
contents. “You ought to have some Dobbins, though. Dobbins are the best
five-cent smoke there is. What kind of cigarettes have you got? Uh-huh,
I see. There’s lots of fellows in the building smokes Scimitars,
though. You’d ought to lay in some of those, I guess.”
“We’ll find out pretty quick what’s wanted,” replied Joe. “What we
should have, though, is a lighter. Guess we’d better have some matches
on the showcase until we can get a lighter. You tend shop, Jack, and
I’ll go and get some.” When he returned from a trip around the corner
to the nearest grocery Ole had departed, but the second elevator
attendant had taken his place. He was a younger lad, short and stocky
and red-cheeked, with a wealth of assurance and a fine command of
slang. His name was Walter. There was probably more to it, but the boys
never learned it. Walter was equally complimentary.
“Some stand, kiddoes, believe me,” he affirmed. “All to the cheese.
Say, what kind o’ cigs do you handle? Got any Moorish Beauties?”
“No, we haven’t,” said Jack.
“You ought to, then. They’re the best. Lots o’ fellers smokes Beauties.”
“We’ve got six sorts there,” laughed Joe, “and it seems we haven’t the
right ones yet. Ole says we ought to keep Scimitars.”
Walter sniffed. “Huh, they ain’t no good. Punk! Beauties is the brand
for you. Got any novels?”
“Novels? No. Just magazines.”
“I mean nickel novels. ‘Dick Dashaway’ and ‘Bull’s-Eye Bob’ and them.
Ain’t you goin’ to have none o’ them?”
“I think not,” replied Joe drily. “You see, if we kept them we might
not attend to business we’d be so busy reading them.”
The irony was lost on Walter, however. “That’s so. They’re swell
novels, take it from me. There’s one of ’em――Oh, gee, there’s a guy
wants to be dropped!” And Walter disgustedly returned to his car,
slammed the door and shot upward.
“What time is it?” asked Jack. “My watch has stopped.”
“Nearly half-past four,” replied Joe. “I wonder who will be our first
customer.”
“Maybe there won’t be one! Say, we’ve forgotten the money box.”
“I know. But we don’t need to put that out except when we’re not here.
We――we might see how it looks, though.”
Joe went behind, produced a japanned tin box with a slot in the lid and
a small brass padlock on the hasp and set it on the showcase. On the
front of the box was printed in white letters: “Help yourself and drop
the money here.”
“How does it look?” he asked.
“All right. But, say, Joey, wouldn’t it be a joke if someone
absent-mindedly walked off with the box some day?”
“The funniest kind of a joke!”
“How would it do to chain it?” continued Jack.
“Well, it would look a bit funny, wouldn’t it, to trust folks as to put
their money in the box and then chain the box down?”
“I don’t see――――” began Jack. But just then an elevator descended, the
door opened, and out walked Mr. Adams.
“Ready for business, eh, boys? Well, you look very nice, very nice,
indeed. Hm; cigars, cigarettes, magazines, candy――quite a stock of
goods. Got any Vista de Isla cigars? I see you haven’t, though. It
might pay you to keep a box, boys. I run out of them now and then
and I might as well get them from you as send around to the club for
them. Well, I’ll take a _Recorder_, I guess. Have to patronise home
industries, you know.”
Mr. Adams laid down his two pennies and took a paper from the pile.
Then:
“Hello,” he said, “you’ve got the Springfield paper, eh? Good idea.
I’ll take that. And Cleveland and Cincinnati and――Well, you’re
enterprising! Are these today’s? Guess I’ll take the Cincinnati paper,
too. Will you have these regularly?”
“Yes, sir, and others besides; Chicago and Pittsburg and probably New
York.”
Mr. Adams viewed Joe curiously across the counter. “You ought to get
on, my boy,” he said finally as he counted out an additional ten cents.
“You’re the first person in this city ever thought of keeping a Chicago
paper. I don’t know that you’ll ever sell one, but you certainly
deserve to. Business good so far?”
“Well,” replied Joe, with a twinkle, “we’ve sold three newspapers for
twelve cents.”
“Eh? Oh, then I’m the first customer, am I? Quite an honour, I’m
sure. I’ll have to continue my patronage, boys. Good luck to you and
good-night.”
A few minutes later the exodus from the building began and no one
passed out of the building without pausing to look at the news-stand,
whether he purchased or not. But many did purchase. The pile of evening
papers went fast and long before the building had emptied itself Joe
had to make a hurried trip down to the _Recorder_ Building and get a
new supply. Several sales of cigars and cigarettes were made as well,
while a young lady typewriter smilingly purchased a box of candy. The
only department of the establishment not patronised was the magazine
department, and when, at six, they closed up shop for the night, Jack
remedied that by buying a copy of a monthly devoted to scientific
achievements.
Before they went they counted their receipts and found that they
totalled three dollars and ten cents. Just how much of that amount
represented profit they could not reckon off-hand, but they were
very well satisfied with the result of a little more than an hour’s
business. After everything had been stowed away under the counter and
locked up for the night the partners took themselves off, arm in arm,
looking as much as possible like prosperous merchants.