Bound To Succeed Part 12

The chalked-off sections had begun to grow in number. One was labelled "Needles." Frank stared in some wonder. There were papers of needles whole, and others with half their original paper coverings burned away, of loose needles, some rusted and blackened, some still bright and shining; there seemed to be thousands upon thousands.

Then there was a lot of pieces of lawn mowers, blades, wheels, screws, cogs and axles. Hinges of all sizes and qualities showed up prominently.

Pocket knives, scissors and carpenter tools were likewise greatly in evidence.

One pile was growing rapidly with the minutes. This was a heap of apple corers. It was a contrivance with a small wooden k.n.o.b. A screw held a tapering piece of thin metal, which penetrated the centre of an apple.

Then a twist was supposed to cut out the core.

From letters in the zinc box which Frank had read, he knew that purchasers of this device had complained about it greatly. In the first place it was arbitrarily set for one uniform cut. No matter whether the apple to be operated on was large or small, the hole made was exactly the same. If the fruit was hard and crisp, according to the letters of complaint the corer split the apple. If it was soft, the corer mushed the apple. There were already sorted out several hundreds of these corers. Frank wished he could get hold of them and improve them.

Frank looked over all the selected stuff in view. Then he went in turn to the village blacksmith, the local hardware store and to a druggist friend. He returned with some sponges, soft rags, sandpaper and a can of oil. He chalked off new s.p.a.ces at the rear end of the store, three being devoted to each article labelled. Then he ordered his helpers to grade the various utensils dug out of the debris. Thus, hammers: those burned beyond practical use were put in heap one, second best, heap two; those that were only slightly marred were placed in heap three.

When Mr. Buckner came to the store the following day at noon the work had progressed famously. The insurance man was greatly gratified at the layout.

"Sense and system," he said, and told Frank he was proud of him.

Certainly Frank had proceeded on a routine that was bound to bring good results. What he called the finished product was now strongly in evidence. He had divided his working force. Five of the small boys helped him in getting all the salable stuff sorted by itself.

Mr. Buckner's client did not put in an appearance until the following Tuesday. By that time the place looked more like a real hardware store than a repairing shop.

All the best stuff was cla.s.sified and neatly laid out. The hardware man from Lancaster made one sweeping inspection of the various piles of merchandise. There was quite a delighted expression on his face as he turned to Frank.

"Young man," he said, "Mr. Buckner prepared me to meet a brisk, enterprising fellow of about your size, but the way you have handled this business is a marvel."

Frank flushed with pleasure.

"Right at the start," continued his visitor, "I offer you a good, permanent position in my store at Lancaster at eight dollars a week."

"I thank you greatly," replied Frank, "but I have partly decided on some other plans with my mother."

"All right. If you change your mind, come to me. Now then, to size up this proposition in detail."

The speaker looked into and over everything. When he had gone one round he picked up an empty red cardboard box and began to cut it up into small squares.

"I seem to have made a fine investment, Buckner," he said to the insurance man. "There's over two hundred dollars in those lawn mower parts alone. The regular stuff like tools and cutlery are good for as much more. See here, Newton: I am going to put one of these red cardboard squares on all the lots I wish you to ship to me at Lancaster."

"Yes, sir," nodded Frank.

"Get some strong boxes and pack the stuff well, send by freight."

The hardware merchant now went from pile to pile, placing the red bits of cardboard on about two-thirds of the stuff.

"Aren't you going to take those needles?" inquired Buckner, noticing that his client had pa.s.sed them by. "Why, there's fully a million of them."

"No use for them."

"And this big pile of apple corers?"

The hardware man shrugged his shoulders.

"No," he said plumply. "They busted Morton. If he couldn't make them go, I can't."

"And those other heaps of second-best stuff?" inquired Frank. "I should think they would sell for something."

"And spoil the sale of good-profit goods. No, no. That's poor business policy. I shall make double good as it is. Just dump the balance into some junk shop. Whatever you get for it you can keep, Newton."

"Oh, sir," interrupted Frank quickly, "you hardly estimate the real value there. Why, anyone taking the trouble to put those needles up into packages could clean up a good many dollars. There's a lot of sewing machine needles there, too. They are worth three for five cents anywhere."

"All right," retorted his employer with an expansive smile. "You do it, Newton, I won't. Take the stuff with my compliments, and thank you in the bargain for all the pains you have gone to in turning me out a first-cla.s.s job."

"Takes your breath away, does it, Frank?" said Buckner, with a friendly nudge. "It will give you some interesting dabbling to do for quite a time to come, eh?"

"Yes, indeed," murmured Frank, his eyes shining bright with pleasure. He was fairly overcome at the unexpected donation. He seized the hardware man's hand and shook it fervently. "Sir," he said gratefully, "I feel that you have given me my start in life."

"Have I?" laughed his employer lightly. "Glad. Well, the matter's settled," he continued, consulting his watch--"I must catch my train."

"One little matter, please," said Frank, advancing to the zinc box and throwing back its cover.

He rapidly described what it contained, including the lists of names and the mail order routing cards.

The hardware man listened in a bored, impatient way.

"Don't want any of the truck," he said. "Burn it up, do what you want with it. Get that freight on to me quick as you can, Newton. Buckner here will settle your bill for services. Good-bye."

Frank Newton stood like one in a dream after his visitors had departed.

A great wave of hope, ambition, the grandest antic.i.p.ations filled his mind.

"Mine!" he said, pa.s.sing slowly from heap to heap consigned to him as a free gift. "Mine," he repeated, his hand resting on the zinc box. "At least fifty dollars in cash out of the work I have done, and the basis of a regular business in what that man has given me. Oh, what a royal start!"

CHAPTER X

A VISIT TO THE CITY

"It almost frightens me!" said Frank Newton's mother.

The speaker looked quite serious, as she sat facing her son, who had just read over to her the contents of several closely-written sheets of paper.

"It needn't, mother," answered Frank with a bright, rea.s.suring smile.

"Mr. Buckner gave me my motto when I started in at this work. It was 'Sense and System.' They seem to win."

"Yes, Frank, and I am very proud and happy to see you so much in earnest, and so successful."

"I have over one hundred dollars in hand," proceeded Frank. "We shall get fully as much more from the sale of our a.s.sorted needle packages and the general junk stuff down stairs. Mother, I call that pretty fine luck for three weeks' work."