Dawson Black: Retail Merchant Part 51

About six years before I bought this store, he had left town, when his father had moved to Providence. His father had failed there, his mother had died, and Larry, who had always had plenty of spending money, was thrown on his own resources. I had lost track of him, so you can imagine my surprise when he walked into the store one day.

We had a long chat over old times and I took him home for the night.

Then he told me that he had saved up a few hundred dollars, and wanted to get another five hundred dollars, for a little while, to enable him to buy a small stationery business in Providence. His father had been in the paper business, and for that reason he naturally leaned toward that line.

"That's too bad, old man," I remarked, when he told me that he was five hundred dollars short. "If I had the money I'd be only too glad to lend it to you," as, indeed, I would have been.

"That's what I came to see you about, partly," he replied, leaning over and becoming very serious. "Now, the present owner of that store is willing to take my note for two months for the five hundred dollars, if I can--find some responsible endorser. Listen, old man,"--and he brought out several sheets of paper all covered with figures. "Let me tell you exactly the condition of the store."

The figures that he had seemed to show conclusively that in sixty days at the most he would have sold enough goods to be able to pay the note.

"You see," said Larry, "I would have three hundred dollars in cash, anyway, as a working capital, so, in a pinch, I would really only have to find two hundred dollars to pay it. And if you would endorse it for me--there's not the least risk in it, or else I wouldn't ask you--I am willing to pay you interest on the money, if you wish, old man."

"Larry!" I exclaimed, quite disappointed that he should suggest such a thing as interest. "Indeed I'll endorse the note for you, but don't you talk of interest, for I'm only too happy to be able to help you a bit!"

Just as I had signed my name on the back of the note, Betty came in.

"What are you doing, Dawson?" she asked sharply.

"Just--" I looked at Larry to see whether he had any objection to my telling Betty about it.

He said, with a little embarra.s.sment: "It's just a little business matter between Dawson and me."

"You know, old man," I said to Larry, "I talk all my business over with Betty. Of course you won't mind my telling her about this, will you?"

"Why, no," he returned, as he picked up the note and put it in his pocket.

When I told Betty what it was, to my astonishment she said:

"Well, Dawson, if you allow Mr. Friday to have your endors.e.m.e.nt on a note you are very foolish!"

"Betty!" I said, quite mortified to hear her speak so in front of my old friend.

"And," she continued, looking Larry squarely in the face, "if Mr. Friday allows his friend to endorse a note for him, I don't think he is much of a friend."

"I am sorry your wife feels that way about it," said Larry. "I guess I'm coming between you two, old man. Here's the note--you better take it back, for I think too much of you to do anything that would affect your happiness. . . . Although I must say that I think Mrs. Black is unjust to you and me."

"You put that note right back in your pocket!" I commanded. "Betty," I said sharply, "this is a matter which I can handle without any help.

Thank you!"

"Dawson," said Betty, holding out her hand to me, "I was vexed."

"Come, Larry, old man," I said, "I've known you too many years to allow my judgment of you to be swayed."

Larry held out his hand to Betty, who, however, turned coldly away and left the room.

"If you don't mind, old man," said Larry, "I'll not stay with you to-night, and if you want that note back--" his hand went toward his pocket.

"No! If the time comes that I can't trust you, I'll tell you so to your face!"

"You're a real pal!" exclaimed Larry, with feeling eyes.

He packed his grip, and, with a hearty, silent handshake, he left the house.

I had felt very much astonished and mortified that Betty should have acted that way, and I went into the house to reason with her. To my surprise, she was in her room and the door was locked.

"I want to come in," I said.

"Keep on wanting!" she replied, angrily.

"B-but--" the door was suddenly thrown open, and Betty stood there with her eyes flashing.

"Don't 'but' me. You can hardly make both ends meet now, and your business is only just making a bare existence,"--I looked surprised--"yes, a bare existence; and here you jeopardize your future by endorsing the note of a friend without knowing the first thing about it! The thing I advise you to do is to begin to save up five hundred dollars to pay that note."

I laughed.

"Dawson," she said, "there _are_ times when I don't know whether you're a fool or not. This is one of the times I'm _sure_ you're one!" And, with that, she slammed the door in my face, and left me aghast.

Betty was still sulky the next day. She could not get over my having endorsed that note for Larry. I was disappointed in Betty. I didn't think she would have me throw down a pal. Besides, it had not cost me anything to endorse the note, when it was sure to be paid long before it matured. While trying to get Betty to be reasonable, the telephone bell rang and I said, "Go answer it, Betty."

"Better answer it yourself," she snapped, "perhaps it is some other friend who wants you to give him some money."

I picked up the telephone and called, "h.e.l.lo!"

"h.e.l.lo, yourself, you old scallywag!" came back a voice which was familiar, though for a minute I could not place it.

"Who is it?" I asked angrily.

"Who's been biting you?" came back the answer. "This is Fred Barlow, old surly face. What's the matter, anyway? Had a row with the wife?"

Fred Barlow! Old Barlow's son! If ever there was an irrepressible young man it was Fred Barlow.

"I'm coming right over to see you," he said, and click went the receiver.

I went back in the room and growled at Betty: "Fred Barlow's coming over here. Try to be civil to him."

Betty looked at me for a minute, then crossed the room, and put one arm around my shoulder.

"Dawson, dear," she said, "you must not get vexed with me. You know, dearest, I would do everything to make you happy. But you must also know, dear, you have such a great big heart that you sometimes let it run away with your head--now, don't you? But you must not get angry with me. We cannot afford to get cross with each other--can we?"

"I--" but what then happened is n.o.body's business but ours. Suffice to say that, when Fred Barlow did breeze into the house, Betty and I were both smiling, and smiling from our hearts.

"Well, you old turtle doves," said Fred, "what's the price of dollar razors to-day? I want to buy one so that I can razor rumpus."

"Dawson," said Betty severely, yet with a twinkle in her eye, "please throw this person out of the house. A man who makes puns on Sunday is breaking the Sabbath."

"Never mind the Sabbath," said Fred. "If you will ask me to break bread with you I will stay. What's doing?"

"Well," I said, "I suppose we shall have to ask him, sha'n't we, Betty?"