Bound To Succeed Part 19

A MEAN ENEMY

"You have invented something yourself?" repeated Frank, with a good deal of curiosity.

"Yes," nodded Markham.

"What is it?"

"A puzzle."

"What kind of a puzzle?" pressed Frank.

"I'll show it to you," said Markham, fishing in his pocket. "There it is. I don't suppose it's much," he continued in a deprecating way, "though two or three fellows who saw it said it was quite clever."

Frank inspected the article his companion now handed him with a good deal of interest. It was roughly made of wire. There was a ring linked into a triangle, and the latter linked onto two other rings. The lower one of these had a link connected with a wire square. Lying loose around this link was a larger ring of wire.

"What's the puzzle?" inquired Frank, looking over the little device.

"To get that big ring over all the other rings, the little square and the triangle."

"Oh, I see," said Frank, working at the device industriously, but finally asking: "Can it be done?"

"Readily--look here," and Markham, taking the puzzle, deftly slipped the ring over all the obstacles, and then worked it back again into its original place.

"I say, that is mighty clever," declared Frank. "Show me slower, now.

The slip over the triangle is the trick, eh? Good! Markham, that thing would sell like hot cakes."

"Think so?" asked Markham, seriously.

"I certainly do. If I was started in the mail order business, I wouldn't hesitate to ill.u.s.trate and advertise it in my catalogue."

"Well," said Markham, "that pleases me, for I can show in a small way my appreciation of all your kindness to me. Frank, I give it to you. If it's worth patenting, all right. I know it's original. It's yours, freely."

"On royalty--yes," answered Frank. "I'll have some nicely finished models made when we get to Pleasantville. We're getting to be great business men, aren't we, Markham, talking about patents and royalties?

How did you come to make the thing, anyhow?"

"Oh, I was for--for a long time in a place where there was lots of wire," explained Markham lamely. "I had too much leisure. It bored me. I had to find something to work at to kill time."

The old gloom that Frank did not like came into the boy's face as he spoke. Frank drifted off into generalizations on his mail order dreams to lead his mind into more pleasant channels.

There was a great confab at the supper table that evening. Frank told his mother all his plans in detail. She had too much confidence in his good judgment to oppose his wishes.

"I will be glad to get anywhere away from a place where I have seen so much sorrow," she said. "Besides that, the Haven boys and Bart Stirling and their friends are certainly good friends of yours. Has my son ever told you of the lives he saved at the great fire at the Pleasantville hotel?" Mrs. Ismond asked of Markham.

"Oh, pshaw, mother," said Frank--"don't go to lionizing me, now."

His mother was fondly persistent, however, and Markham, with gleaming eyes, was soon reading a treasured newspaper clipping telling of Frank's heroic exploit, as already related in detail in "Two Boy Publishers."

"That's fine," he exclaimed with enthusiasm, "and I'm proud to know your son, Mrs. Ismond."

The next day Frank wrote a report to Mr. Morton about the collections.

He returned the unpaid bills with notations as to the condition of each claim, explaining that he was going to move to a distant town, and naming Mr. Buckner as a reliable man to follow up the collections.

Frank saw their lawyer, Mr. Beach. The attorney stated that their suit against Dorsett would not be tried for over a year. He took Mrs.

Ismond's new address, and promised to look out for her interests.

Then Frank arranged to sell off some of their furniture. It took two days to pack up the rest. Tuesday morning early all arrangements had been completed for their removal. They had engaged a freight car to carry their belongings to Pleasantville.

Frank closed up his business with Nelson Cady and the other boys.

The old store building was vacated. Markham was to go with them to Pleasantville.

Mrs. Ismond was to spend the day until train time with an old neighbor.

Frank and Markham were also invited there to dinner.

They had just finished the meal. Frank was looking over a time-table and telling of a letter he had received from Darry Haven that morning, when there came a thundering knock at the front door.

"Frank," said Mrs. Ismond, in quite a startled tone, as her hostess opened the front door, "it is that man, Mr. Dorsett."

"Is the widow Ismond here?" demanded Dorsett's gruff tones.

"Mrs. Ismond is here, yes," replied her friend. "Won't you come in, sir?"

"No," sneered Dorsett, "short and sweet is my errand."

"What do you want of my mother, Mr. Dorsett?" demanded Frank, stepping to the open doorway.

"Oh, you're here, are you?" snarled Dorsett.

"Frank, do not have any words with him," spoke Mrs. Ismond, hastening to her son's side.

Dorsett stood outside. With him was a low-browed fellow whom Frank recognized as a chronic hanger-on about the village justice's place.

"I've come--with my deputy and witness, ma'am," announced Dorsett, "to inform you that I have learned that you are about to leave town."

"Yes, that is correct," answered Mrs. Ismond.

"Very well, then here," and he produced a legal-looking slip of paper, "is a little bill you will have to settle first."

"We owe you nothing that I am aware of," said Mrs. Ismond.

"Mistake," snapped Dorsett. "When I sued on my claim to your homestead, I entered judgment against you for the costs of court. There's the amount--fifty-seven dollars."

"And not satisfied with robbing me of my home and my income, in fact everything I had in the world, you have the heartlessness to press such a claim as this at such a time?" asked Mrs. Ismond bitterly.

"Law is law," prated the mean old usurer.

"Why have you never mentioned this before?" demanded Frank, his eyes flashing dangerously.