The Bread Line Part 12

"Why, yes," he owned, "that's so. I never noticed that b'fore. S'pose I got to writin' twos an' couldn't stop. Should have been 'forty' in the blank b'fore 'dollars.' Have it fixed t'-morrow."

He pocketed the contract and rose to go. Barrifield and Perner again looked across at each other with satisfaction. Bates took a step toward the door. Then it was observed that his self-control had been but temporary, or perhaps had not extended to his legs. He staggered, reached for the k.n.o.b, missed, and plunged helplessly into the corner in a heap. They helped him up, brushed him, and steadied him down-stairs.

As they came back to the studio Van Dorn remarked disgustedly:

"Well, smart men that drink, or no smart men, I wouldn't hire another man like that."

"But wasn't it wonderful how he braced up when it came to talking business?" insisted Barrifield.

"Yes; he's all right on business," agreed Perner; "but I am with Van on the drink question."

"I'm with the Colonel," said Livingstone.

XII

A LETTER FROM MISS DOROTHY CASTLE OF CLEVELAND TO MR. TRUMAN LIVINGSTONE OF NEW YORK

"MY DEAR TRUE: Your last letter, and package containing 'dummy' of the first issue of the 'Whole Family,' so far as complete, came last night. I have read every word in it--the 'Whole Family,' I mean (and your letter, too, of course)--over and over. I think it splendid (both splendid).

The stories and drawings are all of the very highest order, if I am any judge, and the 'make-up' and all beautiful. (I am talking of the paper this time.) There is a little typographical error on the fourth page,--in the second column, just below the first paragraph,--but I know Perny will find that before you go to press. Of course, I think your drawings are the best, but Van's are fine, too. I think all of you ought to be proud of such a beautiful first issue, and I am sure you will be able to keep up the standard, for, as Barry told Perny, it will go like clockwork when you get to going.

"You mustn't get discouraged, True. Your letters, lately, have been rather blue sometimes, and I know just how you feel. But, whatever you do, stick it out to the end. Don't think for a moment of giving it up; don't do it, True, after putting in as much thought and time and money as you have already. For, after all, as you once said, True, money is a great thing,--a lot of money,--you can do so much with it; and now, when we are almost at the turn of the tide, is the very time to pull hardest and get over the bar. Even if it takes every cent you can sc.r.a.pe together to pay you through, put it in, and if it takes more than that I can buy a share and put in a little, too, for I have five hundred dollars that papa gave me last August when I was twenty-one, and I will have five hundred more soon, because I am not going away at all this summer, and papa is going to give me, in money, what it would cost.

"I thought of going at first, and then I kept putting it off from week to week, and remembered you working away there in the heat for me, and I made up my mind at last that I wouldn't go, either. Besides, our home is cool and beautiful, and I am alone, and can do as I please, and not have to dress and go and be torn to pieces. Next summer we will go together.

"So you see, True, I will have a thousand dollars of my own, and if your a.s.sessments take more than you have I will send it to you, and you can invest it for me. I had intended to buy things for our house with it, but we won't need it by that time, and the success of the paper now is the all-important thing. I did not care so much at first, but now it has gone along so well, and with all the new plans and such a beautiful paper as you can get up, I want to see it make the success and fortune for you that I am sure it must. Besides, True, won't it be fine to own our interest together?

"I know, of course, that there are many unpleasant things about it,--some, I suspect, that you don't tell me of,--and that it isn't altogether the money that bothers you; but you must put up with the burden and suspense a little longer, and with Bates, who must be a dreadful nuisance, though he surely means well and works hard to get so much advertising.

I should love to meet the Colonel. The first little sketch you sent me of him I have pinned up over my desk, and when I read your letters about him I look up at it and laugh and imagine just how he looks and acts. What a beautiful model he must make for the picture, and how glad I am you are working at it so enthusiastically again! Perhaps that is one reason why you are less interested in the paper, and worried over the annoyances that must always come with the more practical pursuits of life.

"You see, True, I think a good deal about all these things, and I realized even from the first that a nature like yours is not at all suited to hard and shrewd commercial enterprise, though this is not quite that, either, and the hard days will soon be over. Work right along on the picture, True, but don't think of giving up your interest in the paper. The picture will rest and comfort you now, and the paper will furnish the means of rest and comfort by and by. Then, when that time comes, perhaps I shall be able to add happiness to your life, too, and together in our beautiful home we will add happiness to the lives of others.

Good-by, True. Stick fast, and remember that I am

"Always your "DOROTHY.

"P.S. True, I can send the money any time, and you must let me do it if you find it will be needed. I do not offer it as a.s.sistance, but _claim the opportunity of investment_.

"DORRY."

XIII

THE HOUR OF DARK FOREBODING

With the first days of September the tension became more severe. Bills sprang up from every quarter like mushrooms, and while no one of them was very large the acc.u.mulation was considerable. The humors of the enterprise were not altogether lost sight of, however, and still furnished some relief, though there was a manifest touch of bitterness in many of their whimsicalities. There were moments of individual doubt and discouragement also--not as to the final outcome, but as to their ability to exist until such time as the crumbs which they were sowing so lavishly upon the outgoing waters should return in good brown loaves.

Indeed, these were likely to be needed presently, for they were economizing at every point, and the dairy lunch and cheap table-d'hote places served most frequently their needs. There were no more go-as-you-please dinners, and those of the past were remembered with fondness and referred to with respect.

It may have been that this system of diet resulted in clearer mental vision, or it may have been that Perner's early business training really manifested itself feebly at last, and set him to thinking logically.

Whatever it was, he suddenly came out of his den into the studio, one afternoon, looking rather pale and startled. He had been through a hard day with printers and engravers, as well as voracious collectors, whose bills had an almost universal habit of error on the wrong side. The others knew the conditions and did not suspect anything unusual when he flung himself down on the Turkish couch and stared up at the skylight.

Then at last he said:

"Boys, it's a failure. It won't work!"

The others looked around quickly.

"What is it? What's a failure?" They spoke together.

"The 'cash for names'; it's a fallacy."

"How? Why? Won't they do it?" This from Van Dorn.

"Oh, yes; _they_ may, and will, probably; but _we_ won't!"

"Oh, pshaw! Perny, what are you talking about?"

Van Dorn was becoming a little impatient--it was his scheme. Perner rose to a sitting position on the couch.

"Why, look!" said he. "We send the paper free for two weeks to each of the twenty names sent by each subscriber. That's forty papers free for every subscriber that comes."

"Of course," admitted Livingstone; "but some of those twenty names--most of them--will subscribe."

"Certainly; and each one that does so will send twenty more names, which means forty more free papers--forty papers besides the fifty-two they are to receive afterward, or ninety-two papers in all. Ninety-two papers will cost us, mailed, something like seventy-five cents; the premium will cost us at least fifty cents more, even where we charge for postage and packing. Then there is the twenty-five cents cash we pay to the sender of names. Total, one dollar and fifty cents outlay, for which we receive one dollar cash in return."

Perner looked steadily first at Livingstone, then at Van Dorn. Neither of them answered for a moment, and both became a trifle grave. Then Van Dorn said:

"But the advertising, Perny--you forget that. Even if we do lose money on subscriptions the first few months, we can afford it for the sake of a subscription list that will swell the advertising returns."

"By gad, yes," said Livingstone. "That's so--the advertising!"

Perner lay back on the couch wearily.

"Yes," he admitted; "the advertising ought to help. I keep forgetting that. I wish Bates would make a statement, though, of just what he's done in that line. He talks enough and seems to be getting along. He's kept pretty straight lately, too."

"Why don't you call on him for a statement?" asked Livingstone.

"Well, I have meant to, but he's so peculiar, you know, and I didn't want to offend him."

"No; of course, we can't afford to do that now," Van Dorn agreed. "We're under obligations to Bates for placing our advertising with Jackson. I don't believe anybody else would have taken it without money down. Bates having worked there once is the reason he did it."

Livingstone was painting on his picture of the bread line.

"I've a mind to make one of these fellows look like Bates," he laughed, "out of grat.i.tude."