Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 12

d.i.c.k and his friends went home in the big automobile a few days later, having crowded into their stay as much sight-seeing as was possible.

d.i.c.k had just finished telling his father, the evening of his arrival, of his various adventures, including the one with the swindler, when the servant announced:

"Some one to see you, Master d.i.c.k."

"Who is it?"

"Henry Darby."

"Ah, there's a young man who will make his mark some day!" exclaimed Mr.

Hamilton. "If his father was only like him Henry would have more chances."

"That's right," admitted d.i.c.k. "I wonder what he wants?"

"Well, I'll leave you together," said d.i.c.k's father, as he left the library, and a little later Henry was ushered in by the servant.

"h.e.l.lo, Henry!" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"Same to you and more of it," was Henry's greeting. "I've come to see if you don't want a particularly fine line of gold bricks," he went on with a laugh, for he had read in the papers of the attempted bond swindle.

"You'll have to see my secretary," spoke d.i.c.k, joining in the spirit of the talk. "He buys all my gold bricks. But, to change the subject, how's the old iron business?"

"Pretty good. In fact, I came to see you about it, if you're not too busy," and Henry tried to look as though he had come to discuss the investment of millions.

"No, I guess I can spare you a few minutes. What is it?"

"I came to take up my note and pay it off," went on the young iron merchant, drawing a roll of much-crumpled bills from his pocket. "Want to save interest, you know. I managed to sell that iron I bought, and I made a profit on it. So I'll pay that fifty-dollar note now."

"Well, you certainly know how to make money," spoke d.i.c.k admiringly.

"I'll have to take lessons from you. But say, Henry, I'm in no hurry for that money. If you can use it, why, just keep it."

"No--no," went on Henry, with rather a sorrowful air, d.i.c.k thought. "I'd better pay you while I have it. I might not be able to get it together again. You take it," and he shoved the bills over toward d.i.c.k with an air of desperation.

"But, I don't need it," persisted d.i.c.k. "You might just as well keep it a while, Henry."

"Do you mean that?" asked Henry earnestly.

"Sure."

"Then I will," and Henry appeared much relieved.

"In fact, if you want more I'll lend it to you," continued the millionaire's son.

"Are you in earnest?"

"Of course I am. Why?"

"Well, to tell you the truth I hated to pay back that fifty dollars. I mean I still had a use for it. In fact, if I had a little more I could branch out--I'm a sort of a little tree now--like one of those saplings they set out. I need branches."

"Tell me about it," suggested d.i.c.k.

"Well, if I had two hundred dollars more I could buy out the business of Moses Cohen, who deals in old metal. He's getting too feeble to carry it on, and I heard it was for sale. I made some inquiries and I found I can get it for about five hundred dollars."

"But you said two hundred and fifty was all you needed."

"So it is. I'm only going to pay half cash, and give a mortgage for the balance. That's the safest way. So I was in hopes you wouldn't take that fifty. I might induce him to take this on account and wait a while for the two hundred."

"He needn't wait at all," interrupted d.i.c.k. "I'll let you have two hundred more, with pleasure," and he drew out his check book with a little flourish.

"I can't give you any security but my note," said Henry. "Even that wouldn't be good in law, as I am not of age. But it shows I mean to pay you back."

"Of course it does."

"I'll get my father to give you his, also," went on the young lad of business. "Though I guess it isn't worth much more than mine," and he sighed a little, for Henry was aware of his father's failing.

"Yours is all I want," said d.i.c.k. "Tear up this old note and make out one for two hundred and fifty dollars. Then you can buy out Cohen's business."

Henry tore up the fifty-dollar promissory note d.i.c.k handed him and soon had made out another for the larger amount.

"There's the check," went on d.i.c.k, handing it over.

"I'll get dad to draw up some kind of a paper giving you a share in the business," continued Henry. "He heard about me going to buy out old Cohen, and he wants me to incorporate and make him one of the officers.

I guess that's what he's best fitted for," and once more Henry smiled rather sadly.

"Well, I wish you good luck," returned d.i.c.k as he shook hands with Henry. "I'm going to put through some business deals myself soon, as for certain reasons, I've got to make a good investment," and he thought of his failure in the land scheme, while a vision of his Uncle Ezra came to him like the memory of a bad dream.

It was several days after this that d.i.c.k met Frank Bender on the street.

Frank was attired in his "Sunday clothes" and seemed in a hurry.

"Where you going?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Circus."

"Where is it?"

"Over to Parkertown. They have some good acrobats in it, and I want to get a few points."

"I wonder why a circus never comes here," mused d.i.c.k, half to himself.

"It's quite a trip to Parkertown."

"This place is too small," replied Frank.

"They have to have a big crowd to make it pay. A circus will never come here."

"No, I s'pose not," answered d.i.c.k. "Well, I wish I was going, but I've got to go down to dad's bank. I've got a little business on hand."

"So long," called Frank. "I must hurry to catch the train."

"I wish they'd have a circus here some time," continued d.i.c.k, as he walked along. "Hamilton Corners is too quiet. It needs stirring up."