The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 196: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

762 Yes, Ben was right, the public wanted a clean store, competent clerks, smiling ladies to wait on them, and a man, suave and gen- tlemanly, to direct them to the’®arious de- partments. He called at the bank, to see what the status of the new concern was! They were as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. A quar- ter of a million was behind them, and their receipts were such that old Bruce’s eyes popped open. More in one day than he had ever taken in in a month! Then, the next morning, he was surprised to receive a courteous letter, asking him to call at the new store and talk over a matter of business. At first all his pride surged up to his throat, and he picked up the phone, with the only notion of bawling out that he was not going to talk with them. But, down in the store, not a person was walking about! Swallowing his pride, hé walked up the street. He had aged much in the few short months. His Emporium, the pride of four counties, had been virtually driven out of business. He knew it now! : He did not lose anything, except the stock and the money it represented. He was well fixed, but his heart was broken. The floor manager escorted him directly to the elevator. “Fourth floor, to your left, Mr. Cam- eron,” he said, softly. “How the deuce—” exploded Bruce, but the door closed on him, and a few seconds later he was at the top floor, striding along the hall to a door upon which was lettered the words: “President, Private!” He felt like a small atom indeed! Ben, had been right! He could not banish that thought from his head. And he, in his blind- ness of adhering to the old policy, had turned him out! He groaned, as his hand rested on the knob, and he pushed the door open. A neat office boy, whom he recognized as one of the urchins that used to play around his doors, ereeted him and asked him to wait a mo- ment. He gazed about at the heavy mahogany equipment of the place; then the boy re- turned. “This way, Mr. Cameron,” said the youth. A second later he was in the interior office. A bright-faced young fellow, not more than twenty-five, extended his hand. THE ARGOSY. ) “Good morning, Mr. Cameron,” he smiled, ‘“‘my name is Handworth. I’m the president of the concern. To get right down to business, Mr. Cameron, I want to know how much you'll take for your stock. We appreciate that you have a lot of good-will, and if we can match your figures we will take it over. Competition may be the life of trade, but there is no use in cutting each other’s throats.” The old man gasped. Such an offer seemed incredible. Good ‘will? He smiled! What was it worth now? } He was beaten,’ licked! And here was a young fellow, offering him a proposition. He wet his dry lips. How like Benny the young fellow looked! And, he, Bruce Cameron, considered the shrewdest man in Waterburg, had turned his own son out, the son that had proposed just such a store as this magnificent one! His jaws snapped together. “YT have never taken advantage of any one before,” he snapped, ‘‘and I don’t in- tend to now! My good will is not worth a nickel!” | “That is for us to decide, Mr. Cameron,” said the young man, smiling. “‘We offer you ten thousand for your stock and good will, and the lawyer is waiting to draw up the papers. What do you say?” Bruce Cameron’s breath came fast. The offer was so generous that he could not do otherwise. “T’11—Gad, man, it isn’t worth it!” “It’s a pleasure to do business with an honest fellow like you,” said Handworth quietly. ‘‘ What is your decision?” “Bring in the lawyer!” was all Bruce said. ‘‘T’ll have our vice-president and treasurer sign, too.”” Handworth pressed a button and gave the order to the office-boy. An instant later an adjoining door opened, and framed in the opening stood—Benny Cameron. * A smile was on his face as he came for- ward. His father sat very still for an in- stant, then with a jump he was on his feet. “Benny, Benny,” he murmured, tears filming his eyes. ‘‘You—you are the vice- president of this concern?” ‘“That’s me, daddy,” smiled his son. ‘“Handworth is my college chum, who very nicely put up the capital, and I must say that my ideas about young blood were not fallacious!” For a long time his father remained with COMMICLOOO® S (C@