XKID MAKES AN INVESTMENT
After the meeting had adjourned Kid retired to his room, which he shared with Stanley Pierce, a senior, and stretched himself out on the window-seat to think things over. Stanley was out and Kid was glad of it, for the problem confronting him demanded a lot of study. How was he to make some money? He had read or heard of boys who earned money and he tried to remember how they had done it. Usually, it seemed to him, they sold papers or ran errands. There were no papers to be sold at Mt. Pleasant Academy and nobody wanted any errands run except the upper class fellows, and Kid’s wildest imaginings failed to picture them paying for such service. If you didn’t run the errands, he reflected ruefully, you got paid all right, but it wasn’t with money! He tried to recall how the heroes of the various stories he had read had risen to fortune. In the Alger books the hero, having been left behind in the great citythrough some astounding combination of circumstances, had a pretty hard time of it until he dashed in front of a pair of runaway horses and rescued the beautiful daughter of the wealthy banker from certain death. After that it was plain sailing. But Kid didn’t quite see how he was to rescue any bankers’ daughters. He abandoned that idea with a sigh, for he rather fancied himself as a hero.
He had heard that boys sometimes made money selling books or subscriptions to magazines, and after he had considered and rejected various other schemes he went back to the canvassing plan and thought it over again. Of course, there weren’t many folks here at school who would be likely to subscribe. Even if he was successful with the Doctor and the two instructors, Mr. Crane and Mr. Folsom, he would still be a long way from that ten dollars. Perhaps he might persuade one of the older fellows to subscribe; Stanley, for instance, or Steve Lovell; Steve was good natured to a fault; but that was very doubtful. So that meant that he would have to try his fortunes in the nearby villages, Mt. Pleasant, Riveredge and Whittier. Then he wondered how much you made on a subscription and what magazines he had best honor with his support.
He tumbled off the window-seat and rummaged about the closet shelf until he had found an old number of a magazine which Stanley had brought from home. It wasn’t a very high-class publication, but Kid had read the entire contents of it and approved. He nestled down amongst the pillows again and turned to the advertising pages. Bathtubs, breakfast foods, bonds, furniture, patent medicines, agents wanted. Ha! He would be an agent! Kid scanned the columns eagerly. Somebody wanted an agent in every town to sell a suction cleaner and promised 150 per cent. profits. Another concern had a razor strop that folks bought on sight, but the profit was only 100 per cent. and Kid passed it over. A family needle-case sounded more promising, the profit being estimated at from 200 to 500 per cent. Kid liked that until he discovered that an initial outlay of twenty-five cents was necessary. Kid only possessed thirteen cents. Another advertiser assured him that he could make “big money” silvering mirrors in his spare moments, but as the advertiser neglected to state what he considered “big money” Kid sniffed suspiciously and read on.
The difficulty was that those who guaranteed large results demanded from twenty-five cents to adollar, while those who were willing to send samples without cost were cruelly silent on the subject of profit. But at last Kid found something that promised well. Tinkham’s Throat-Ease was plainly a wonderful discovery. It—or they, since they were tablets “put up in attractive boxes to fit the pocket”—was—or were a certain cure for hoarseness, sore throat, quinsy, tonsilitis, bronchitis, canker of the mouth, cough, gumboils and many other afflictions. Agents had made as much as forty dollars a day. The demand was terrific. They sold themselves. And all you had to do was to send ten cents in stamps or silver to the Tinkham Chemical Company, Waterloo, Illinois, and receive two dozen boxes of the tablets. You then sold the tablets for twenty-five cents a box, remitted two dollars to the company and kept the balance. Kid seized a pencil and figured rapidly, with frowning brow, on the margin of the magazine. Why, that was six dollars! And two dollars out left four dollars! That was—how much per centum was it? It took some time to figure that, but he finally decided that it was nearly two hundred. And if he sold a box to every fellow in school he would have four dollars in no time! Then, of course, he could buy forty-eight more boxes, which would—more figuring—leavehim with eight dollars. And eight dollars and two dollars—no, four dollars—made twelve dollars! He had only agreed to earn ten. He would have two whole dollars for spending!
Kid rushed to the table and indited the following epistle then and there:
Tinkham Chemical Co.,Gentlemen:Please send me immediately one agent’s outfit like you advertise to send in Puffer’s Popular Monthly for ten cents. Here’s the ten cents. Please send it immediately to Mr. James Fairchild, Mt. Pleasant Academy, Mt. Pleasant, New York, and oblige,Respectfully,James Fairchild.P. S. I haven’t got a dime and I send you two nickels which I trust will be agreeable to you.J. F.
Tinkham Chemical Co.,
Gentlemen:
Please send me immediately one agent’s outfit like you advertise to send in Puffer’s Popular Monthly for ten cents. Here’s the ten cents. Please send it immediately to Mr. James Fairchild, Mt. Pleasant Academy, Mt. Pleasant, New York, and oblige,
Respectfully,
James Fairchild.
P. S. I haven’t got a dime and I send you two nickels which I trust will be agreeable to you.
J. F.
I must acknowledge that it took a good deal of resolution on Kid’s part to drop those two nickels in and seal them up. They looked very large and desirable just then. And after he had sealed the letter he was strongly tempted to recover his money and postpone embarking in business until after the receipt of his next remittance from home. But to his credit be it said that he nobly resisted the temptation and, lest his resolution might not hold out,hurried downstairs and dropped the letter irrevocably in the post box outside the front door. Then, somewhat excited by the prospect of so much wealth, he returned to the window-seat and with pencil and paper carried on his business in imagination to a point where he had disposed of some ten dozen boxes of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease and was rich beyond the dreams of avarice. He would have been still richer if the dinner bell had not sounded just then.
After that there was nothing to do but wait for the tablets to arrive. Kid tried to bear himself modestly, but the thought of so much riches couldn’t fail to reflect itself on his countenance and in his bearing. Stanley Pierce asked him what the trouble was and Kid, smiling knowingly, said “Nothing, thank you.”
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” growled Stanley. “You’ve been up to some mischief, that’s what, Kid. What you been doing?”
“Nothing,” replied Kid virtuously.
Stanley viewed him suspiciously. “Well, don’t try anything on me, Kid, or I’ll tan your hide for you. No more mutinies, either. Run over and tell Sam I want to borrow his lexicon; left mine in hall.”
The next day Small appeared with his design for the trophy. As the school at large was to know nothing about it until the presentation was made, Small had to be very careful with his design, and it was only exhibited when none of the older fellows were about. That is why Small hung around Kid’s room until Stanley took offense and put him out. Later, though, Small, having watched through the crack of his door for Stanley’s departure, returned stealthily and Kid was accorded a look at the drawing.
“If anyone comes,” whispered Small, “shove it out of sight quick. Here, you’ve got it upside down!”
“Oh, have I?” Kid viewed it earnestly. “I thought it was going to be a mug,” he ventured at last.
“We—ell, mugs are so common, I thought I’d make it a vase. Don’t you think that’s a very graceful shape? Nan’s tickled to death with it.”
“What’s all this?” Kid pointed to the embellishment. “What’s that thing?”
“That’s a wreath of laurel leaves,” replied Small a trifle exasperatedly. “And those are crossed bats, and that’s a ball. The inscription willbe underneath there; see? I didn’t put that on because I don’t letter very well. Do you like it?”
“I guess it will do,” replied Kid, “but I don’t know that I just like the shape of it. It looks too much like a water pitcher, doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t! If you knew anything about art you’d know that that is a very beautiful shape. It—it’s Etruscan.”
“Is it? Well, just the same it looks like a pitcher and I may decide to have it changed.”
“Youmay decide to have it changed!” Small laughed hoarsely. “What have you got to say about it? I’m the one that’s doing this, Kid.”
“Well, I’m the one that’s paying for it, ain’t I?”
“Why—why, you’re paying some, maybe,” faltered Small. “But you haven’t any more say about it than the rest of us.”
“I guess if that mug’s ever made it’ll be my money that pays for it,” replied Kid calmly. “The rest of you fellows haven’t any more idea of earning money than—than—than nothing at all! I’m the only one that will have any when the time comes and I guess I’ll have to pretty much foot the whole bill.”
Small laughed again, quite insultingly this time.“Gee, you hate yourself, don’t you, Kid? To hear you talk anybody’d think you were a John D. Rockefeller—until he thought again! I’ll bet I’ll have more money than you, Kid!”
Kid smiled patiently. “Piffle! A couple of piffles! You wait and see, Small; that’s all I ask you to do; just wait and see! I may not be any John D. Rockefeller, son, but I’ve got more business head than you ever thought of having.”
“Huh! You! Give me my drawing! You make me tired, you do!” Small was plainly incensed and Kid suddenly recalled the fact that it wouldn’t do to have Small angry if he was to be asked to purchase a box of the celebrated Tinkham’s Throat-Ease.
“Well, you needn’t get huffy,” said Kid. “I didn’t say anything, did I?”
“Yes, you did! You said this looked like a water pitcher!”
“Well, aren’t water pitchers all right, Small? Can’t there be—be beauty in a water pitcher? I didn’t say I didn’t like your drawing, did I?”
“You said maybe you’d have it changed, didn’t you?”
“Can’t you take a joke? Gee, you’re getting touchy! I guess it’s the artistic temper in you,Small. Artists are always touchy. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I couldn’t say that, because I do like it—awfully.”
“Yes, you do!” growled Small, mollified nevertheless.
“I do, honest! Cross my heart, Small! I think it’s a dandy drawing. Wish I could draw like that.”
Small viewed him suspiciously, but Kid’s cherubic countenance seemed without guile. Small, much flattered and highly pleased, stammered that it wasn’t much and that he could show Kid how to do it if he, Kid, wanted him to. Kid thanked him and promised to give the matter thought. Then,
“Say, you’ve got a cough, haven’t you?” he said.
Small looked surprised. “Who? Me? No, I haven’t any cough.”
“Then what are you coughing for?” demanded Kid.
“I’m not! I haven’t coughed all winter.”
“Oh! Then I suppose I imagined it. You want to be careful of a cough this time of year. First thing you know you’ll have tonsilitis or—or pneumonia or something.”
Small looked concerned and promptly coughed.The cough surprised him and when Kid kindly thumped him on the back and asked where it hurt him, Small went into a regular paroxysm of coughing that left him crimson-faced and alarmed.
“Gee,” he exclaimed, when he could get his breath, “I didn’t know I had any cough! Funny how things kind of—kind of creep up on you, ain’t it?”
“Insidious, that’s the word for it,” replied Kid sympathetically. “Insidious. They say a cough’s the worst sort of a symptom. It leads to other things, you see, things like quinsy and diphtheria and bronchitis, Small. If I was you I’d take good care of myself for a while. Don’t ever get your feet wet, Small.”
“I guess they’re wet now,” muttered Small, feeling of his shoes. “They are! I guess I’ll get ’em off.” He coughed again, a truly alarming, hollow cough that produced a sad shake of the head from Kid.
“Haven’t anything you can take, have you?” he asked solicitously. Small, unhappy, shook his head.
“What—what’s good for it?” he asked huskily.
Kid reflected. “Well, if it was me, I’d mostcertainly take some Tinkham’s Throat-Ease. They’re the very best things I know of, Small, and they’re only a quarter a box.”
“Have you got any, Kid?”
“No, I always mean to have some on hand, but I’m all out of them just now. Maybe you might get some in the village, but I don’t know. They don’t have many up-to-date things there, and Tinkham’s Throat-Ease is a—a new remedy, a modern discovery.”
“I suppose something else would do,” reflected Small. “Sam Perkins has some licorice pastilles that are dandy——”
“Keep away from them!” advised Kid, with a shake of his head. “They’re good to taste, Small, but they have no—no healing virtues. I tell you. I’ve sent for some Tinkham’s and they ought to be here in a day or so, and then I’ll let you have some.”
“Thanks,” said Small gratefully.
“Twenty-five cents a box is all they are,” continued Kid.
“Oh!” Small swallowed. Then he coughed. “Much obliged,” he murmured.
“That’s all right. I’d do it for you any day, Small. And they are large boxes, too. A quarter’sworth will last you a long time and cure the most stubborn cough. Meanwhile, though, you want to be awfully careful of yourself. If I was you I wouldn’t go out much, and I’d eat as little as I could—especially sweets.”
“I guess it ain’t that bad yet,” murmured Small.
“You can’t tell,” said Kid darkly. “Lots and lots of folks have neglected a cough or a cold and been terribly ill. And over-eating is one of the worst things you can do. If I was you—”
“If you were me,” interrupted Small querulously, “I suppose you’d eat nothing but milk toast and give your puddings and preserves and things to the other fellows! Well, you don’t get ’em!”
Kid looked virtuously indignant. “I don’t want your pudding, Small; and if you think I do, why you go right on and eat it and see how sick you’ll be. Then don’t say I didn’t warn you; that’s all; don’t say I didn’t warn you, Small!”
“What’s the use of making so much fuss? I haven’t coughed but once since I came in here.”
“Three times, Small!”
“Well, all right; but I’m not coughing now, am I?”
“You’re going to,” responded Kid with uncanny certainty.
“Bet you I don’t!”
“Bet you you do! You’re trying not to, but you can’t keep it in for long, Small.”
“I’m not trying not to! I don’t want to cough; I couldn’t cough if I tried!”
“Then stop holding your breath. I don’t care if you want to be ill, Small; you don’t need to get waxy with me about it. Besides, a cough’s nothing to be ashamed of. If I wanted to cough I’d cough!”
“I don’twantto cough, I tell you!” cried Small exasperatedly.
“And, anyhow,” went on Kid imperturbably, “I’ve heard it’s injurious to try to—to restrain coughter—I mean coughing.”
“I tell you—oh, you make me tired!”
“Go on, Small; let it out.”
“Let what out?”
“That cough. You’re only hurting your lungs.”
“There isn’t any cough!” Small shrieked. “If you say cough to me again——”
He stopped there, not for lack of words, but because he was suddenly seized with a paroxysm of coughing that rendered speech impossible. Kid turned away, apparently with a delicate consideration for the other’s embarrassment, but in reality to grin triumphantly and wink wickedly at the doorknob.Small, with one hand clutching convulsively at his chest and the other accusingly outstretched toward Kid, rushed from the room, coughing and sputtering.
“Don’t forget!” admonished Kid. “Tinkham’s Throat-Ease! Twenty-five cents a box!Accept—no—substitutes!”
Kid had to yell the latter part of the injunction since Small’s footsteps were dying away down the corridor. Then came the sound of a slammed door—and silence. Silence, do I say? No, for, faint yet unmistakable above the silence of a Sunday afternoon, came the evidences of Small’s awful malady!