Jr. Horatio Alger

“ When Frank left the residence he was just twenty-five dollars richer than he had been. His high spirits made him put on an extra spurt, and his bicycle flashed over the road like a meteor.
“That is what I call doing business,” he said to himself. “It beats the old feed store all to pieces. Won’t the folks at home stare when they learn how I am getting along!”
The young book agent had his case of samples with him, and also some volumes to be delivered, and put in a full day delivering and collecting, and in trying to get new orders. ”

“ Glasby, faintly.
“I cleared fifty-six dollars one week, and forty-eight dollars another week.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, it does beat all! I thought book selling was worse than fiddling for a living.”
“It’s all in the way you go at it. Some fiddlers and some book agents don’t make their salt, but others make money. I’ve heard of one violinist in New York who gets five hundred dollars a night.”
“That’s a fairy tale, Frank.”
“I don’t think so. He is known as a very celebrated artist.”
“Humph! Well, do you expect to make five hundred dollars a day selling books?” ”

“ If I sell four books a day I’ll be making three dollars, and three dollars a day is eighteen dollars a week. That is more than many a man earns. But perhaps I won’t be able to sell so many books. Yet I’m going to try my best.”
It was a ride of nearly two hours to Bardon, and the young book agent spent the time in studying the books he wanted to sell, and also in reading over the hints to agents and the other pamphlets furnished him. He was naturally quick to grasp anything new, and by the time he had finished he felt himself able to talk intelligently about all of his wares. ”

“ When our hero told his father and his mother of his plan, on the following morning, both were much surprised.
“A book agent!” cried Mr. Hardy. “I don’t think they earn their salt.”
“Father, you are mistaken,” Frank answered, and then told of his experience of the day previous. Both of his parents listened with keen interest.
“That agent must be a remarkable man to earn so much,” said Mrs. Hardy. “I knew a man here who tried it once, old Randolph Winter. He earned only a few dollars a week.” ”

“ Now, our hero had heard of the publishing house mentioned, and knew their books were far inferior to those issued by Mr. Vincent. The copyrights were old, the paper and binding poor, and the covers far from lasting.
“I prefer Mr. Vincent’s books,” said Frank, quietly.
“Naturally—since you work for him.”
“No, because I think they are the best books on the market for the price.”
“They can’t hold a candle to our publications. We have you beat to death on our whole line,” went on Grant Deems, insistently. ”

“ Georgie went with her, but Ruth stayed to see the end of the conflagration.
It was a full hour before the fire was under control. By that time not only the feed store was gone, but also the butcher shop next door, and a barn in the rear. Yet many felt that the firemen had done well to save the surrounding property, considering how dry everything was and what a breeze was blowing.
“That’s the end of the feed business,” thought Frank. “I hope father is insured. If he isn’t, the loss will be a heavy one for him—especially after this Garrison disaster.” ”

“ In fact, I sometimes think I am going crazy, I have such pains in the head.”
“You must have been crazy when you walked off from Philadelphia,” said Frank. “Where is all the money you took with you?”
“I—er—I don’t know anything about any money. I am a poor man. Oh, my head!” and Jabez Garrison put his hand to his temple. “Yes, I must be going crazy!” he moaned.
“I guess he is putting on,” said Mark. “I think his valise ought to be searched.”
“No! no!” cried the swindler, in fresh alarm.
“We’ll take it to the station house,” said one of the officers. ”

“ I mean I cannot believe that anybody in my house would be a thief.”
“Humph!”
“If this—this gets out in public it will ruin me!” moaned the landlady, who had never had anything go wrong before.
“That is not my affair, Mrs. Larkspur. Still,” Gabe Flecker’s voice took on a softer tone. “I do not wish to make trouble for you, madam.” He paused as if deliberating. “Receipt my bill and give me ten dollars, and I’ll say nothing about it.”
“But I shall say a good deal about it, Mr. Flecker,” came a voice from the doorway, and Frank stepped into the room. ”

“ Frank found he could scarcely speak, he was so agitated.
“My husband!” murmured Mrs. Hardy, and ran forward with Frank at her side. “Oh, tell me, he is not—not dead?”
“No, ma’am, he isn’t dead,” came promptly from one of the men. “He got his foot crushed, and he’s fainted, that’s all.”
“Thank Heaven it is no worse!” murmured Mrs. Hardy, and when the men laid her husband on the grass above the cut, she knelt beside him, and sent Frank down to the creek for some water with which to wash Mr. Hardy’s face, for it was covered with dust and dirt. ”

“ At a wholesale stationer’s place in New York he had seen such books in the window at a dollar and a quarter a dozen. He knew he could send the money for them and have them shipped to him by freight at a cost of not more than twenty or thirty cents.
From the butcher shop Frank went to the remaining stores, and then to the first of the private dwellings. At the latter place he met a shrewd middle-aged man, who looked his cattle and poultry book over with keen interest.
“That’s a pretty good book,” he said. “How much?”
“Three dollars.”
“It isn’t worth it. I’ll give you a dollar and a half.” ”

“ But I don’t want to force my services on him,” answered Robert Begoin.
“I know that, sir. I’ll tell him I met you and that I asked you to call.”
“What are you doing for a living? I see you have a case of goods with you.”
“I am selling books.”
“Indeed? What sort of books?”
“I’ll show you,” answered Frank, and lost no time in bringing out the various volumes. The lawyer was not particularly interested in the health book or the cattle book, but took pleasure in looking over the set of novels by famous authors. ”

“ Bright and early on the following morning Frank went to Goshen to see if he could take orders for any books in that thriving town. He visited several stores and then came to the corner upon which Mrs. Larkspur’s boarding house was located.
“Perhaps I can sell a set of famous novels in there,” he thought, and ascending the stone steps, rang the bell.
“What is it?” asked a new servant girl, who came to the door.
“Is Mrs. Larkspur in?” he asked, having seen the name on the door plate.
“Yes, sir. Please step in the reception room and I’ll call her,” answered the girl. ”

“ Now he was in New York, Frank could not resist the temptation to look around a little. Saying he would call for his sample case later, he left Mr. Vincent’s store and strolled up Nassau Street until he reached City Hall Park, and crossing the Park back of the post office, came out on Broadway.
“New York is certainly a busy place,” was his mental comment, as he gazed at the crowds of people, and the broad highway filled with trucks and surface cars. “It’s a regular bee-hive for business.” ”

“ A book sold by a boy will yield us as much profit as one sold by a man. But it requires talking, and I am afraid a boy could hardly set forth the merits of the works we offer to induce subscriptions.”
“I can talk pretty well,” said Frank, smiling.
“Yes; but can you talk to the point?” asked Mr. Vincent, shrewdly.
“After I have had a chance to examine the books and understand their strong points.”
“Yes; it is absolutely necessary to become acquainted with the works one wants to sell. I have a clerk who knows our books thoroughly. ”

“ Frank sat down to his breakfast in a corner of the dining car. He had scarcely begun eating when Gabe Flecker came in, accompanied by a man who looked to be a Southern planter. The pair went to the table next to the one our hero occupied, and Flecker sat down with his back directly behind that of the young book agent.
“Yes, Mr. Lee, this real-estate deal will make you a rich man,” Frank heard Flecker remark, during the course of the meal. “It is really one chance out of a hundred.” ”

“ They were soon at the first house, where the book agent delivered a cook-book and collected three dollars for it. The transaction was quickly over, and they passed on to the next place.
“That was certainly a quick way to make sixty cents,” thought our hero.
“We don’t always have it so easy,” said the agent, as if reading what was in Frank’s mind. “Sometimes folks won’t take the books they have ordered.” ”

“ Hardy.
“Oh, if I can’t go this winter I’ll go next,” he replied. “Wait till father gets into business again.”
It was not until the next day that he told his folks how well he had done by selling both new and old books, and of how he had obtained a hundred dollars from the Windhams. They were both astonished and gratified.
“Why, Frank, you are surely making a fortune!” cried his father. “I never dreamed you would do half so well.”
“It beats tending the feed store, doesn’t it, father?”
“Indeed it does. No feed store in Claster could make as much money as you’ve been making.” ”

“ But Frank was too quick for him and was soon out of sight.
“He’s worse off for notions than Bobby Frost was,” thought Frank, as he wheeled along. “One wanted to make a fortune in Wall Street, and the other wants to become a famous actor. What notions some boys do get!”
Frank worked on a country road that was rather winding, and the next morning found him not over half a mile from where he had met the boy. A good-sized farmhouse was in sight and he rode up to this to see if the folks there would purchase any of his wares. ”

“ He was soon joined by his little brother, Georgie, and his sister, Ruth, who was twelve years of age.
“How do you get along with your lessons?” he asked of Ruth, who had been practicing on the piano in the parlor.
“I think I am doing real well,” returned the sister, who was very fair, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. “Professor Hartman says I will make a good player if I do plenty of practicing. And, oh, I love it so!” added the girl, enthusiastically.
“The one who loves it is the one who is bound to make a good player,” said Frank. ”

“ Many of the windows of the cars were open, and as the train moved away from the station he looked at the people sitting in the seats. In the smoker was a man whom he recognized.
“Gabe Flecker!” he murmured, and looked again to make certain that he was not mistaken. “It is that rascal, I am sure! I ought to stop him!”
Frank did not know what to do, and before he could make up his mind the train was out of sight, on its way to New York. Our hero scratched his head in perplexity. ”

“ A bargain is a bargain,” said the young farmer, in surprise.
“Never mind—I’ve not forgotten how you assisted me on the road.”
“That puts me in mind. Those boys are in trouble for keeps now. They robbed an orchard of some extra fine pears, and the owner gave each of ’em a tremendous walloping.”
“Well, they deserved it,” answered Frank.
Having eaten his supper, Frank went directly to his room, and got out the bundle of books he had procured from Samuel Windham. He piled the volumes on the table and began to look them over. There were four histories, an atlas, and several volumes of poetry. ”

“ Larkspur, much pleased with her boarder’s readiness, and she waited in the parlor for him to come down again.
A few minutes later Gabe Flecker came rushing down into the parlor with an excited manner and a flushed face.
“Goodness, Mr. Gibson, what is the matter?” questioned the alarmed landlady. To her he had introduced himself as Ralph Gibson, from Rochester.
“Matter? Matter enough, madam! I had laid aside fifty dollars in one of my trunks only yesterday, and to-day it is gone—every dollar of it is gone!”
“Is it possible!” ejaculated Mrs. Larkspur, in dismay. ”

“ Where are you going?”
“I am going to look for work,” answered Frank, as he took a seat beside the grocer’s boy.
“Can’t you get anything to do in Claster?”
“Yes, one job. Mr. Grimes wants me to work for him for two dollars a week.”
“Don’t you work for him, Frank.”
“I don’t intend to. I must earn more.”
“Old Grimes is the hardest man in town to get along with. All of his clerks are in hot water with him every day.” ”

“ Really, I’ll have to be more prompt in the future.”
“Oh, I don’t mind a little delay.”
“It isn’t fair on such a hard-working woman as yourself, Mrs. Larkspur. But, to tell the truth, I could not help it. I had to close up a land deal this afternoon, or else lose a commission amounting to three hundred and twenty-five dollars.” Gabe Flecker now pretended to be a real-estate agent, although he had never handled a foot of land in his life.
Mrs. Larkspur was impressed, and as Gabe Flecker seemed to be tired out she resolved to let the matter of his board bill rest until morning. ”

“ Frost, after the young book agent was introduced. “You were more than kind, and I shall never forget you.”
“Perhaps a few days in the city would have done him no harm,” came from her husband. “He would speedily have discovered that to make a fortune is not so easy. How are you getting along with your book selling?”
“Very well,” answered our hero, and related a few particulars.
“Don’t you ever have folks set the dog on you?” asked Bobby. “I’ve read about that being done.”
“No; I’ve never met a savage dog yet,” answered Frank. ”

“ Hardy, as she sat down to pour the tea. “If one wants to do well at anything, one’s heart must be in the work. I once knew a girl whose family wanted her to learn how to paint. She hadn’t any talent for it, and though she took lessons for two years she never drew or painted anything really worth showing.”
“I know what I like real well,” came from little Georgie. “I’m going to keep a candy store when I grow up. I like that real well.”
“Good for you, Georgie!” laughed Frank. “Only don’t eat up all the stock yourself.” ”

“ I know you must be hungry.”
“I am, mother. Baseball gives a fellow an appetite, especially if he runs bases and plays in the field, as I did. We played the Hopeville Stars and beat them 12 to 7. I made three runs.”
“You must certainly love the game?”
“I do. Sometimes I wish I could be a professional ball player.”
“I shouldn’t wish you to be that, Frank. I want you to go to college and be a professional man,” added Mrs. Hardy, with a fond smile.
“Oh, I was only talking, mother. But some professional ball players are college men.”
Frank entered the dining room and sat down to the table. ”

“ A man can’t be a lawyer unless he likes it, and is cut out for it—and the same with a book agent. Is this your first sale?”
“No, sir,” and Frank related how he had fallen in with Joel Perkins and sold him the two volumes. The lawyer from Newark laughed heartily.
“You certainly took time by the forelock,” he said.
“I made a dollar and a half on that sale.”
“Good! And I presume you will make a little more on the books you have sold me.”
“The publisher allows me five dollars on each order in ordinary binding and seven dollars for an order in half-calf.” ”

“ My name is Oscar Klemner, and I represent the Barry Marden Publishing Company, of Philadelphia—one of the largest publishing houses in the subscription book business. Here is their card,” and Oscar Klemner handed it over.
“Thank you. My name is Frank Hardy, and I come from Claster.”
“Glad to know you, Hardy, and if you take up books I hope you make a big success of it.”
“Will you tell me how they pay for the work?”
“Certainly. An agent gets twenty per cent. for getting an order, and twenty per cent. more if he delivers and collects.” ”