Chapter III: Part 3

"They won't serve two portions of pie for four of us, I suppose," he said.

There was a laugh in which all joined, and the flimsy wall of pretense was swept away.

"Let's own up, boys," said Barrifield, "it's a matter of economy just now with all of us. We'll be lunching at Del's this time next year, but for a few months we want to go a little slow. Let's have pie, though, once more, anyway."

IX

IN THE SANCTUM

Perner's days were not without compensations. There was correspondence with certain celebrities whom they had decided to engage for the coming year, and to be addressed by these as "Dear Mr. Perner," and even as "My dear Perner" more than once, was worth the foregoing of certain luxuries of a grosser nature.

Then, too, the news of the "Whole Family" had gone abroad among the bohemians of the town, and the poet and the fictionist unearthed from the dark corners of their desks--technically known as their "barrels"--the sketches, poems, and stories that had already (and more than once, perhaps, as editors came and went) gone the hopeless round from Franklin Square to Irvington-on-the-Hudson. They shook the dust from these, cleaned them carefully with an eraser, and brought them to Perner's door. They were a merry crowd, these bohemians, and most of them Perner knew. He had waited with them in editorial anterooms, had striven hip to thigh with them in the daily turmoil of Park Row, and in more convivial and prosperous moments had touched glasses and nibbled cheese with them at Lipton's or in Perry's back room. It was really rather fine, therefore, to have become all at once a potentate before whom, with due respect, they now dumped the various contents of their several "barrels."

He informed one and all graciously that contributions would be promptly passed upon, and such as were selected promptly paid for, speaking as one with ample means in reserve. He knew, of course, the venerable character of most of these offerings,--he could detect a renovated manuscript across the room in poor light,--but he also knew that some of his own most successful work had become much travel-worn. He was willing to wade through the pile of chaff in the hope of discovering a gem, and, besides, the dignity of an editorial desk with heaped-up manuscript was gratifying.

Also, the bohemians were entertaining. They knew the peculiarities of every editor in town, and exchanged with Perner characteristic experiences. Among them was a stout, middle-aged man named Capers. He was partly bald, with a smooth baby face that gave him somewhat the appearance of Cupid, and, with his merry disposition, made him seem much younger than he really was.

"Well, I've just had a round with Jacky," he said, as he came in one morning, puffing somewhat after the long climb. (Jacky was the name by which a certain very prominent and somewhat difficult magazine editor was irreverently known among the bohemians.) "It was a pretty stiff tussle, but I landed him."

Perner's face showed interest. Jacky, to him, had been always a trying problem.

"How was it?" he asked. "What did you land him with?"

"Christmas poem--twenty-four lines. Wrote it for an autumn poem--twelve lines in the first place. Too late for this year."

"You could change it, of course, easy enough."

"Changed it right there. Put the golden apples and brown nuts in a pan on the table instead of on the sear and yellow trees. Then I showed it to him again, and he said he didn't care much for nuts and apples anyway, so I took 'em out, and put back the trees, and hung tinsel and embroidered slippers on them. I had to add four more lines to do that, and spoke of the holidays connecting the years like a 'joyous snow-clad isthmus' to rhyme with 'Christmas.' He liked that pretty well, but thought it ought to have a little more atmosphere, so I put in at the beginning a stanza with a Star in the East in it, and another at the end with Christmas day as a star in the heart of humanity--sort of a reflection like--"

"That was good--tiptop!"

"Yes; he took it then. He said, if he didn't, I'd keep on adding to it and break up the magazine. Now, Perny, I'll tell you, I've got a poem that runs right straight through the year. Every stanza is complete in itself, and I can give you any kind of a cut you want. You can have it all as it is, or I'll take out the bones and trim it up for you, or you can have slices out of it here and there at so much a slice."

Perner took the manuscript and ran his eye over it casually.

"That's a good thing on September," he said. "The figure of the goldenrod like a plumed warder closing the gates of summer is striking. We don't publish till November, though."

"That's all right! What's the matter with making it chrysanthemum--a royal goddess at the gates of fall?"

"Why, yes; I suppose that will do." Perner handed back the sheet, and Capers immediately set about recasting his stanzas. Perner had been too long in literature himself to be shocked by this phase of it. He was only amused. Furthermore, he was fond of Capers, as was every editor in town. They knew him to be far more conscientious in his work than most of those who affected the poetic manner and dress. These and others were less entertaining. Some of them Perner would rather not have seen.

There was the faded, middle-aged woman whose poor, impossible manuscript was offered to him with hands made heavy by toil. There was the pale, eager girl who trembled before him until Perner himself was so disturbed that words meant to be kindly and encouraging became only rude and meaningless. There was the handsomely dressed woman of fashion, who, with the air of a benefactor, laid before him stories of bad execution and worse morals--stories to which was attached neither the author's signature nor stamps for their return. Then there was the sharp-featured woman with spectacles, who regarded him severely and proceeded to read her poem aloud. Once this contributor brought a song, and insisted on singing it to him, much to the enjoyment of Van Dorn and Livingstone in the next room.

There were men who tried him, too: men who brought bad pictures and a recommendation from their instructors; men who were worn and threadbare, and smelled of liquor and opium; men, and women, too, who offered their ancestry, or their relationship with better-known people, as an argument of their ability; men who accompanied their contributions with a card bearing a picture of themselves as well as their names, and on the reverse side local press notices complimentary to their talents.

All of these, however, were the exceptions. For the most part, the bohemians were sensible, cheerful people who had adopted the uncertain paths of art, and were following them, in storm and sun, bravely and perseveringly, to the end. They were nearly always light-hearted--on the surface, at least,--and bore away their unaccepted offerings or left others with equally good nature. Now and then a new aspirant came, in whose work Perner recognized the elements of success. Toward these his heart warmed, and out of his well of experience he gave to them an abundance of encouragement and priceless counsel. Indeed, this was a keen enjoyment to him. His own struggle, begun somewhat late in life, had not been altogether an easy one, and there was delight in renewing each step of his success. There was regret, too--regret that the old days of freedom, and nights without responsibility, were over. Still, it was something to be the editor of a great paper, and then, by and by, there would be for him--for all of them--the comforts of wealth, and with it time in which to do only such work as gave them most pleasure. The strain was rather hard now, sometimes, and might become even harder before the final triumph. But the end of their rainbow was drawing each day nearer, and in the summer dusk, under their open skylight, the friends still drowsed and talked far into the night of pots of gold.

X

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

"MY OWN DEAR DORRY: When I wrote to you last we had just
arranged to have Bates come and Colonel Hazard. Well, they
are both here now, and it is a perfect circus. Bates came a
few days before the Colonel. Then when the Colonel did come
Bates regarded him in some way as a rival, and because he
isn't dressed very well tried to intimidate him. Bates is
like all solicitors,--at least, all that we have seen,--full
of talk and rather overpowering in his manner; but the
Colonel is a white-haired old army officer, and can put on
some dignity, and talk some, himself. Perny had to go down
and straighten them out, and now they've got the door locked
between them. They are all right, though, both of them, I
suppose, in their way. I don't care for Bates-- I don't like
his way, though Perny and Barry say that some of the
smartest men they ever knew were like him. But the Colonel
is an old brick. He's traveled all over the world and been
in about all the battles that ever were fought. He's been in
a lot of different kinds of business, too, and has made a
great many people rich. I don't think he's very rich now
himself--at least, he doesn't look like it, though, of
course, you can't always tell. I know he's expecting money
in a few days, for I lent him a dollar this morning until it
comes. I'm going to get him to pose for me, if he will, for
he's a perfect type for the bread-line picture if he only
won't get any new clothes. I'm almost afraid to ask him,
though he's so good-natured I know he can't refuse. He's a
boon to Perny, for he talks to all the people with
circulation schemes and keeps them down-stairs, so Van and I
can get out the rest of the pictures for the first issue
and begin some for the second. Bates takes care of the
advertising solicitors, too, which is a help, though he
worries Perny a good deal trying to find out how much money
we've got. He made up to the Colonel yesterday and
questioned him on the subject. The Colonel told him we had
_millions back of us_. Of course, we've never told the
Colonel about Frisby, and he doesn't know any more than
Bates, or just how _far_ back of us the millions are any
more than we do, but wasn't it a jolly answer? The Colonel
is always amusing, while Bates never is. Bates wants a lot
of things, too, and we've got new tables and letter-presses
and chairs that all cost a good deal more than you'd think
for. You've no idea how things count up, and now, with
Bates's salary and the stenographer's and double rent, it
really almost scares me sometimes. Still, Frisby did it
without money, though, of course, he had some things that we
have to buy, and then he got credit, too. We'll either have
to do that soon or make another assessment, for there is
something new that we have to buy every day.

"You should see our new mail-box. The Colonel bought
it--that is, he had it made to order, because there were no
ready-made boxes in the city, he said, big enough to hold
our mail when our advertisements come out, and I suppose
that is so. But it really is very large, and it has an
opening in it big enough to take in almost any size package.
We put it down-stairs by the door, and people come all the
way up the outside steps just to look at it. I don't know
what they think it is--perhaps a receiver of old clothes and
things for charity; at least, some must have thought so, for
there was a pair of little worn baby-shoes in it the other
day, and yesterday a hat. You see, it says 'The Whole
Family' on it in big black letters, and I suppose people
think it means contributions for all ages. I took the
baby-shoes to use as models, and the Colonel is wearing the
hat. It is pretty good and better than the one he had. Van
says if the paper fails we'll have to depend on our
mail-box for support.

"Of course, that was in fun, for the paper can't fail now.
Bates says he's already got contracts enough made and
promised to fill up nearly all the space in the first issue.
He says we must advertise more ourselves than we calculated
on, as that helps us to get ads in exchange, and I suppose
that is true; and then, as soon as our advertising is out,
we'll have money coming in right away to pay for it. That is
what they call 'cash terms.' I am learning a good deal about
business, and even Perny, who, as you know, was in business
once for ten years, is learning some things, too. You see,
the publishing business is different. I never realized it so
much before.

"We have lots of advice. People come in every day to tell us
how to run the paper, and yesterday a little boy about ten
years old walked in and said to Perny:

"'I'll tell you what you want in that paper: you want a
chapter every week that tells boys how to make things.'

"Wasn't it jolly? Perny is going to have it, too. Then, he's
going to have another one like it for girls, and
correspondence, and cooking receipts, and agriculture, and
puzzles, and games, and sciences, and school features,
besides all the stories and articles. I tell you, we've got
our hands full--at least, Perny has, and, of course, we help
him plan and talk about it.

"The Colonel helps, too, and he is a good hand. Then, when
we are tired, he tells us his adventures. He's a great
traveler and has written articles and stories. He knows
Egypt and the Holy Land like a book. Bates also comes up and
talks evenings, when we want to be alone. I suppose we ought
to listen to him, for he talks business, but he is an awful
bore, and we don't care much who his contracts are with, if
he's just got them. I'd put a good deal more faith in Bates
if he had different ways, but, of course, everything can't
be pleasant. Van tried to seem interested, the other night,
and asked Bates to let him see his contracts. Then he
became quite offended. He seemed to think we doubted his
having them. We don't want to get him mad, for the
advertising is where our profit comes in, and I suppose
Bates is a great hustler, only I wish he'd hustle and be
satisfied without telling us over and over about Lawson's
Baby Powder, and the Slick Shaving Stick, or the H. M.
Rolled Oats, double column agate every other week, and a lot
more things, till we're stone-blind and black in the face.

"And now, Dorry dear, I tried to write you all the news, as
you wanted me to, and I haven't told you once in all these
pages that I love you. I do, though, Dorry, and it breaks my
heart that I am not going to see you this summer. Of course,
as you say, I ought not to leave now until the paper is out,
and must be economical; but it is very hard, and if you were
not so taken up now with the paper yourself, I should be
tempted to drop everything and come away. There are
drawbacks, after all, in having a great responsibility like
this, but, of course, when it gets to going I suppose we'll
have leisure, and next summer we'll have a steam-yacht of
our own and go around the world together. Then we'll come
back and begin building the houses and all the different
institutions you have planned. You are very noble,
sweetheart, to be always thinking of others. It will be
beautiful to be rich for that reason, if for nothing else.
For my part, any condition of life would be happiness with
you at my side. God bless you, Dorothy!

"Your
"TRUE.

"P.S. The Colonel was just in, and I made this sketch of
him. He's going to pose for me, too, in the bread line. He
looked a little queer when I asked him, but he laughed the
next instant and said he would. Isn't he fine?

"TRUE.

"P.P.S.--Bates was in, too. He was flourishing a paper
triumphantly and saying, 'You fellows don't think I have any
contracts, do you?' He said that two or three times, and
then sat down and told us all over a lot of stuff we've
heard before--at least, it sounded like it. When he went out
he accidentally dropped the paper on the floor. Perny picked
it up and looked at it. It was a contract for a two-line
cosmetic ad in two issues for two dollars! Perny figured up
and found that it made our space worth less than five
hundred dollars a page, or about seven thousand dollars a
year in all, when we had been figuring on a million or so.
Perny is going to investigate to-morrow.

"T."

XI

THE GENTLE ART OF ADVERTISING

To the proprietors of the "Whole Family" the discovery that Mr. Bates was over-fond of strong liquors was not altogether in the nature of a surprise. Indeed, this weakness was rather condoned at first as being one believed to be common to some of the brightest minds. Barrifield, it will be remembered, had put it in this way about the time of Bates's engagement, and in his opinion had been ably seconded by Perner, against whose judgment neither Van Dorn nor Livingstone had, at this period, dared to oppose themselves. It will be seen from his letters to Miss Castle of Cleveland, however, that Livingstone's faith in the bibulous solicitor of advertising was by no means complete; also that Mr. Bates had become to all of them the unmitigated bore which the man of his temperament and habit is more than likely to become toward evening after a day of persistent enterprise.

Could they have seen the following letter, prepared and forwarded by Mr. Bates during one of his more lucid intervals, the faith of all might have crumbled somewhat sooner than it did:

OFFICE OF THE "WHOLE FAMILY"

A WEEKLY PAPER FOR YOUNG AND OLD

NEW YORK, August 10, 1897.

_To Richard Cleaver, c/o Jackson & Marsh Adv. Agency, New
York,_

FRIEND DICK: I have gone into this business as deep as
possible, and as near as I can find out these fellows have
got some money. I don't know how much yet, but at least they
pay salaries regular and any bills that come.

There is a broken-down old stuff here by the name of Hazard.
He calls himself Colonel, and has been mixed up in all kinds
of wild-cat enterprises for the past forty years. He knows
something about running a paper of the vintage of '68 and
they think he's a great man. He says they're backed by
millions, but probably knows no more about it than I do.
Whatever they've got, they are "lambs," and one of them,
Livingstone, is a regular infant in arms. They're going to
lose their "bundle," of course, whatever it is, and we want
to get as much of it as we can and as quick as possible.
Here's what _you_ want to do.

Go right to the "Family Friend" people and tell them that
the "Whole Family" is placing a big lot of advertising and
will cut into them in great shape. The "Friend" will give
you a lot of advertising to place for them, for they are
always "leery" of competition. I have already told these
chumps that they will have to do a lot more advertising than
they counted on in order to get ads themselves. They are
going to let me pick the places, and you can stand to win on
my picking places where the commission will be worth
something. You can't do that so well with the "Friend"
people, of course,--they'll pick for themselves,--but
whatever we get from that end will be just so much to the
good, and we'll divide profits in the middle.

Now about the money here. Tell Jackson to present his bill
before he turns their copy in. They will have to pay then if
they have got any money, and if they haven't we'll find it
out. They can't kick, for they've talked cash all the time,
though they seem to think that means when the advertising is
out, and I'll let them keep on thinking so awhile longer.

Now, Dick, we ought to get a pretty good thing out of this
by making it cut both ways, and I want you to attend to your
end all O. K. You hustle the "Friend" folks and I'll "round
up" these duffers. Then I'll come down in a day or two, and
we'll go out where we can have a quiet drink and talk it
over. Your commissions ought to swell up pretty well this
month if we work this through properly, and mine ought to
help out my salary here, which I shall go on pulling as long
as their "dough" holds out to burn. Oh, but these fellows
are a lot of jays! They instructed me when I came to take
ads on the basis of a million circulation _at least_, and to
charge _ten dollars a line_ for space. How's that? I'm doing
it, of course!

Yours,
JOE.

About the time, possibly, that Mr. Bates was preparing this letter, the proprietors of the "Whole Family" were gathered about a table under the studio skylight in earnest discussion. In the center of the table lay a large and loud-voiced watch, a small, inoffensive-looking camera, a savage-looking gun, and a rather showy Bible. After much argument they had finally agreed upon these articles as their premiums, as well as upon the necessity of following up their "cash for names" announcement with premium offers both in their own and other periodicals. They were gathered now to prepare the copy for this advertising. Perner was performing the mechanical labor, while the others assisted him with appropriate adjectives and sentences.

"I don't think 'excellent' is a strong enough word for the watch," objected Van Dorn, picking up the noisy little tin box and regarding it rather sternly, perhaps because it did not suggest something more gratifying to the ear.

Perner scowled and scratched his head.

"I don't think so myself," he admitted, "but I've used up everything else on the paper. I've said 'splendid,' 'magnificent,' 'grand,' 'glorious,' and all those. There isn't anything left that I can think of. Get my Thesaurus, Stony, off the desk in the next room, and turn to 'beauty.' That'll give us a starting-point."

Livingstone obeyed, and was presently running his finger down the page.

"'Gorgeous' wouldn't quite do, would it?" he asked doubtfully.

"N-no, hardly. Look along a little farther. What comes after that?"

"Then--let's see--there's 'good-looking,' 'well-made,' 'proper,' 'shapely,' and 'symmetrical.' I don't think much of any of those, do you?"

"Well, no," reflected Van Dorn; "however true they might be of the proprietors, we'd hardly want to say that our watch was 'good-looking' and 'proper.'"

"How about 'dazzling,' 'showy,' 'majestic,' 'sumptuous'?"

"Oh, pshaw, Stony, give me the book!" said Perner, impatiently. "Here, Barry, you look. These artists don't know any more about a dictionary than we do about a paint-shop."

Barrifield took the book and examined it a moment in silence.

"How would 'elegant' do, and 'superb'?" he asked.

"Good, but we've used them already on the paper."

"'Delicate,' 'dainty,' 'refined'--"

Livingstone looked down at the fat-bellied, moon-faced time-piece and laughed. Van Dorn took it more seriously.

"Too tappy," he said. "We want to land on the solar plexus every time. Why not call it 'world-beating,' or--"

"Now you're talking sense!" interrupted Barrifield. "That's better than a dictionary. 'The great, world-beating "Whole Family" watch! Stem-winding and -setting! Full-jeweled! Diamond balance! Eighteen--'"

"Hold on, Barry; I can't get it down."

Perner was scribbling rapidly. "And what does 'diamond balance' mean?"

"Never mind what it means. It sounds rich, and that's what we want."

"Don't you think we ought to have in something about the escapement?" asked Livingstone. "All watches have escapements, don't they?"

"Why, yes," nodded Van Dorn,--"cylinder escapement--duplex action--"

Perner interrupted:

"Oh, nonsense, Van! It's the camera that has duplex action."

"'Tisn't, either--it's the watch!"

"Oh, well, let's give it to the camera, anyway," compromised Barrifield. "We've got enough for the watch. How does it read now, Perny?"

Perner added a few more lines to what he had already written, then, leaning back in his chair, read slowly and with emphasis:

"OUR MAGNIFICENT PREMIUM OFFERS

"In addition to giving you our superb paper at the
unheard-of price of ONE DOLLAR A YEAR FOR FIFTY-TWO ISSUES,
we make to the _entire world_ the following supreme premium
offers:

"I think," Perner paused to comment, "that that goes a few degrees better than Frisby. Here's what he says."

He picked up a copy of a paper that gave evidence of having had much careful reading and even commentary study.

"Never mind Frisby," objected Van Dorn. "We know that by heart. Let's hear what you say."

"All right," cheerfully assented Perner.

"OFFER NO. 1

"Our splendid paper, 'The Whole Family,' for one year,
fifty-two issues, and our great world-beating, stem-winding
and -setting, cylinder-escapement, diamond-balance,
crown-jeweled watch! Worth, both together, five dollars in
gold! Given by us, until present limited quantity is
exhausted, for the mere ridiculous bagatelle of

"ONE DOLLAR!

"and twenty-five cents to pay for postage and packing."

Perner paused and caught his breath. Then he added:

"The last line, of course, will be in small type, so it won't seem to count. It's the dollar that will catch them. And what do you think of 'crown-jeweled'? Wasn't that an inspiration? You see, 'full-jeweled' means a certain number, and we don't want to deceive anybody, while 'crown-jeweled' means just jewels, because any kind of jewels are suitable for a crown."

Perner regarded them triumphantly. Barrifield and Livingstone murmured assent.

"Yes, that was a great stroke," agreed Van Dorn; "but I object to the 'mere ridiculous bagatelle.'"

Perner looked injured. It was evident that he valued this form.

"You see, they'll think it means another premium--something they don't get," Van Dorn continued.

"Yes; sounds like a game I used to have," suggested Livingstone.

Barrifield nodded dreamily, while Perner scratched out the offending words.

"You fellows are such good hands to find fault with what I do," he complained, "why don't you do something yourselves?"

"Give me the pencil and paper, then," commanded Van Dorn. Perner surrendered the articles with dignity, and for some moments the artist wrote busily.

"Now," he exclaimed at last, "how does this sound?

"OFFER NO. 2

"Paper, same as you had, Perny, and

"our marvelous cracker-jack, kodak, double-rack, swing-back
camera--"

"Bully!" shouted Livingstone, "that's a regular college yell!"

"Of course--that's what we want!" Van Dorn acknowledged eagerly. "That'll make every college boy want one!"

Perner assented, but he did not look altogether happy. Perhaps he felt that he had been defeated by a maker of pictures in what was properly a literary undertaking.

"Now let Barry and Stony do the gun and the Bible," he said wearily. "I'm tired."

The door opened just then, and Colonel Hazard entered. In spite of his disreputable clothing, he possessed considerable dignity and a manner calculated to inspire in those about him something akin to confidence. It was, perhaps, this very quality that had been from time to time the downfall of himself and others. The stream of Pactolus had flowed often at his touch, though only to waste its golden waters in treacherous sands and unseen pitfalls. Nevertheless, he had retained what was even more precious--hope and unfailing good nature. It is true Bates had provoked him to wrath, but then, Bates's manner had been exceptional.

"You're just the man we want to see, Colonel," called Van Dorn, as he entered.

"We're getting up our ads. Come and help us."

The Colonel was always willing and courteous. He cleared his throat and came forward smiling.

"Certainly, gentlemen. I think I may really be able to assist you somewhat. When I was business manager of the 'Family Post' in its palmy days I always arranged my own advertising copy. I remember once of running the circulation up something like two hundred thousand on a single feature I introduced. Also, when I was editor-in-chief of the 'Saturday Globe' they often came to me for such things. It is quite an art, I assure you. May I be allowed to consider what you have already done?"

The work, so far as completed, was exhibited and read aloud for his delectation.

"Very good, gentlemen, very good indeed," he assented, when they had finished. "You have also made careful selection, no doubt, of the periodicals in which these advertisements are to appear. A great deal depends on the choice of proper mediums. For instance, you would not wish to offer the gun in a ladies' journal, nor, from a business standpoint, the Bible in a sportsmen's magazine, however commendable such a course might appear from a moral point of view. You see, gentlemen, I speak from long and dearly bought experience, and these matters are worth considering."

"But Bates attends to all that," said Perner. "He knows the best places to advertise better than we do, and can get better prices. Wouldn't you think so?"

The face of the Colonel grew almost stern.

"I do not wish, gentlemen, to interfere in any of your plans," he said with some dignity, "and you must excuse me if I do not coincide with your opinions concerning my colleague, Mr. Joseph Bates. He impresses me as merely a boasting, unscrupulous fellow when he is sober, and a maudlin Ananias when he's intoxicated. In neither condition do I consider him trustworthy."

"By gad! nor I, either!" declared Livingstone.

"Oh, come, now," protested Barrifield, laughing lazily. "You fellows are down on Bates because he drinks. Why, some of the smartest men we ever had in this country were the hardest drinkers."

"Rather in spite of it than because of it, however, I fancy," smiled the Colonel. "If I were employing men I should hardly regard inebriety as an evidence of either superior intelligence or moral integrity. Personally, I have no respect for my colleague,--no respect whatever,--though, as long as he remains such, I shall treat him with the courtesy due to his position."

There was something about the Colonel's manner that commanded sufficient respect for himself to prevent the laughter which his appearance and remarks might otherwise have encouraged. With his assistance the proprietors of the "Whole Family" proceeded with the descriptions of the gun and the Bible. They had finished and Colonel Hazard had arisen to go when Bates himself entered. He was unsteady on his feet, and paused for a moment to regard the Colonel with drunken scorn. Then he made a motion toward a chair, lurched heavily, barely saved himself by grasping the table, and stood swaying like an inverted pendulum. The Colonel hesitated for an instant, then with a deft motion he pushed a chair behind the oscillating figure.

"Allow me, Mr. Bates. Good evening, gentlemen." And with a stately bow he passed out just as the helpless Bates sank into the chair thus thoughtfully provided by his enemy, and was saved. Once in the chair, he partially recovered and found speech.

"No r'spect f'r that chap!" he said thickly, shaking his head, "no r'spect wh'tever. He's 'n old stuff--'at's w'at he is--no r'spect wh'tever."

"Oh, come, Bates, brace up! If it hadn't been for the Colonel you'd have been on the floor! Brace up, now; we want to talk business!"

Perner spoke sharply, and it had the effect of bringing the solicitor partly to his senses. The proprietors of the "Whole Family" had been indulgent heretofore--even submissive; he could not afford to disturb these conditions--not yet. Barrifield and Van Dorn also regarded him severely. Livingstone, disgusted, walked over to the window and looked down on the street.

"We have been getting up our ads," continued Perner, "and we want them placed right away. We've left the selection of the places to you, but if you're going to attend to it you've got to brace up and answer some questions. What we want to know is whether this advertising is going to pay us--pay right away, I mean--so enough returns will come in to cover the investment as soon as it's out."

The effect of this on Bates was certainly remarkable. By the time Perner had finished speaking, except for a slightly heavy look in his eyes and a trifling uncertainty as to consonants, you could hardly have told he had been drinking.

"Gen'lemen," he said with great conviction, "there is no question about it. I've been in the adve'tising business ten years, an' I know what I'm talkin' about. You've got a beautiful paper, gen'lemen, beautiful. I sat up t'll one o'clock las' night reading it. All it wan's is adve'tising. No question about it, gen'lemen."

Barrifield looked across triumphantly at Van Dorn. Bates was all right when it came to business. They read him the advertisements, of which he approved heartily. Later, he began telling them of some vast sum appropriated by an artificial food company for advertising purposes and of which he would secure for them a handsome slice.

Perner listened a moment; then he drew a paper from his pocket.

"Oh, by the way, Bates," he asked, "what does this mean? This contract you left here last night reads, 'Two lines, two insertions, for two dollars.' What does that mean?"

Bates stared a moment; then he took the paper and pretended to examine it very carefully. A moment later he chuckled.

"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 knob, 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 scrape 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 assessments 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
assistance, 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 accumulation 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 gratitude."

"Do it," urged Perner. "He'll be there some day if he keeps on drinking."

"How much advertising did we take, in all?" asked Van Dorn, presently.

Perner went somewhat into detail in his reply:

"Well, you see, we made the 'Sunday-School Union' a page instead of a half-page so we could get in the big cut of the Bible, and we took a half-page instead of a quarter in 'Boy's Own' so's to get in the gun and the camera, with a small cut of the watch. Then we took a page each in two school papers to get in the gun and Bible both, and the small cuts of the watch and camera. All these, of course, are in addition to what we had counted on before. It amounts to about thirteen hundred dollars in all."

There were some moments of silence after this statement. None of them had any superstition concerning this particular number of hundreds, and the amount was pitifully small compared to the figures they had used from time to time so recklessly in estimating their returns. For some unexplained reason, however, the sudden reality of the sum, and the dead certainty that this was not a mirage of champagne or a fancy of smoke, but a hard, cold fact that had to be met with money, caused the two listeners to have a cold, sinking sensation in stomachs that were none too full. Van Dorn was first to recover. He said with weak cheerfulness:

"Oh, well, it isn't a third what Frisby took, and he didn't have a dollar."

"Sure enough!" rejoiced Livingstone. "Lucky we don't have to pay it now though." There was another period of silence; then he added, "What time is it getting to be, Perny?"

As there was no immediate answer to this, Livingstone wheeled half-way around from his easel for the reply, and saw Perner studying somewhat solemnly the dial of one of the fat "Whole Family" watches. Perner usually carried a rather elegant gold time-piece, a memory of his business career, and the only one in the party. Livingstone was about to comment on its absence, but was restrained by a sudden delicacy. Perner's watch might be out for repairs, or he might be wearing this ridiculous affair out of loyalty to the paper; but these were troublous times, and there was the possibility of still another solution of the matter.

"Five o'clock," decided Perner, at last, "lacking four minutes. I suppose I'm through with the leeches for to-day."

The words were barely uttered when the door opened and a boy entered with bills in one hand and a letter in the other.

"I spoke a little too soon, it seems," Perner concluded, taking the envelop which the boy had extended uncertainly toward each of them in turn.

The envelop contained a brief communication--also a bill. Perner held the latter in his hand while he ran his eye hastily over the former. Then he glanced at the amount of the bill, and Van Dorn, who was watching him, saw that he was rather white. He turned to the boy quite carelessly, however.

"You may leave these. We will attend to them to-morrow." Then, as the collector vanished, he looked up at Van Dorn with, "It's the bill for the advertising. We are to pay before it goes in."

Van Dorn half rose to his feet. Livingstone gasped.

"Listen," said Perner, and he read the letter to them:

"OFFICE OF JACKSON & MARSH, ETC.

"NEW YORK, September 2, 1897.

"_Publishers of the 'Whole Family,' New York._

"GENTLEMEN: We hand you herewith net bill of your
advertising, cash discount being taken off as per your
instructions through Mr. Bates. Upon receipt of your check
for the amount we will give our final O. K. to the various
periodicals, most of which are now ready for the press. With
thanks for your order, we ask, therefore, that you kindly be
very prompt, and greatly oblige,

"Yours, etc.,
"JACKSON & MARSH.
"Per C."

Perner looked up from the letter at Van Dorn. The artist regarded him a full minute in silence. Then he said huskily:

"Don't that beat hell?"

"It does," groaned Livingstone. "Bully for Bates!"

XIV

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

"MY DEAREST DORRY: I have not written to you as promptly as
usual, because there have been other things that had to be
attended to a good deal _more_ promptly, and there was an
uncertainty about everything lately that made whatever I
might say to you more or less guesswork. I mean about the
paper. It seems that 'cash terms' doesn't mean when the
advertising is out, after all, but _before it goes in_, and
this misunderstanding made matters about as lively as
anything you can imagine in the financial department of the
'Whole Family' office for a day or two. I think Bates was
mostly to blame, but we couldn't say anything to him because
it would expose the weakness of our capital; and then, we
_did_ tell him that we wanted to pay cash, though I am sure
he knew we understood that that meant to pay as Frisby
did--when advertising came out.

"However, we got through with it. We thought at first we'd
have to capitalize, but Barry sold a small piece of property
he had somewhere, and the rest of us skirmished about where
we could. I did not let you know, because I have made up my
mind to go through with this as I began, whatever happens.
It can't take a great deal more now until it begins to come
our way, and what you have said about sticking it out is the
right thing, and I mean to follow it to the letter. With
your money, however, it is different. That is just your own,
and as for having an interest in the paper, if I stay by it,
as I mean to, and get through safely, as I'm sure I can, you
will have that anyway. We are going right ahead now with
matter and pictures for the second and third issues, and if
it were not for the salaries and rent and incidentals we
could feel pretty easy, for Barry says he is sure we can get
'the first round of the first issue' from 'the man who
stands with his sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on the
prehistoric towel while he talks,' without the money down.

"That, of course, will be all we need, for as soon as the
first few thousand papers are out there will be plenty of
money coming in for everything. Then we can take it easier,
and, as you say, Dorry, it is worth putting up with a good
deal to be able to have means for everything afterward. We
all appreciate that, now, and Perny says he is looking
forward to the day when he can have some other kind of
dessert besides hard-baked, barber-pole ice-cream, which is
what they give us at the little table-d'hote place where we
have been eating dinner lately.

"The Colonel is as good-natured and jolly as ever. He poses
for me whenever I want him to, and allows me to lend him a
dollar now and then, which I am sure comes in handy, for the
money he is expecting hasn't come yet. We give him a little
salary now, too, though we had to insist on his taking it.
But he is enthusiastic and a great help, and deserves it. He
is getting the circulation books ready, and has bought
himself some new clothes, though, fortunately for my
picture, he doesn't always wear them.

"I am still working on it a little every day, and have been
down to the 'line' one or two evenings. For some reason,
however, the work doesn't seem to have quite the feeling the
first sketch had--I mean quite the feeling of forlornness
and destitution. Van says it's because I've seen the 'line'
lately in warm weather, when the men are only hungry and not
cold. That must be so, I think, and I am not going to finish
it entirely until it gets cold again, so I can get back all
that wretchedness we saw on last New Year's eve. Perhaps
that sounds cruel to you, but it is the artist's way to make
capital out of the emotions of others, and anyhow, dear,
this isn't like 'Prometheus Bound,' that we used to read at
school, for it does nobody any harm and may even do good.