Chapter XXVII

IN WHICH YOU ARE TOLD HOW TO LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING

Two days later Wallingford called a conclave of the stock-holders to meet one Hamilton G. Dorcas, of Boston, who had come to consider taking over the property of the Doctor Quagg Peerless Sciatacata Company. Quite hopefully Doctor Lazzier, young Corbin, young Paley and the others attended that meeting for the disposal of the concern which had already eaten up one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in good cash; but when they began talking with Mr. Dorcas they were not quite so extravagantly hopeful. Mr. H. G. Dorcas was a tall, thin, black-haired, black-eyed and black-mustached young man in ministerial clothing, who looked astonishingly like Horace G. Daw, if any one of them had previously known that young gentleman.

"I have been through your factory," said Mr. Dorcas in a businesslike manner, "and all I find here of any value to me is your second-hand bottling machinery and vats and your second-hand office furniture. For those I am prepared to pay you a reasonable second-hand price; say, about fifteen thousand dollars."

It was young Corbin who put up the loudest protest.

"Why, man, such an offer is preposterous! Besides the twenty-five thousand invested in the machinery, fixtures and other expenses, we have spent exactly a hundred thousand dollars in advertising."

Mr. Dorcas shrugged his shoulders.

"What good will that do me?" he retorted. "It's wasted."

Deep silence followed. The stock-holders knew that a hundred thousand had actually been paid out for advertising which, of course, was now of no value whatever. Only Wallingford knew that, the contract not being completed, part of it could be rebated, though only a small part, but he was not saying anything. Temptation had caught up with Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown him!

"Yes," admitted young Paley with a long, long sigh, "all that advertising money is wasted."

Young Corbin was figuring.

"Mr. Dorcas," said he, "if you will increase your offer by two thousand dollars I am inclined to accept it and get out of this muddle once and for all."

Mr. Dorcas himself figured very carefully.

"It is stretching a point with you," said he, "but I'll give it to you. Understand, though, that is the last cent."

"I am not in favor of it," declared Wallingford, thereby putting himself upon the proper side for future reference. "It leaves us with a net cash loss of one hundred and eight thousand dollars. I'm in favor of rigging up some other patent medicine and going right ahead with the business. A slight assessment on our stock, or an agreement to purchase _pro rata_, among ourselves, a small amount of the treasury stock in order to raise about twenty-five thousand dollars more, will put us in shape to go ahead."

If he intended to encourage them he had gone the wrong way about it. They recoiled as one man from that thought. Young Corbin jumped to his feet.

"You may count me out," he declared.

"Doctor Lazzier," pleaded Wallingford, "you are in favor of this course?"

"By no means," said he. "A lot of my friends are 'on,' and some of my patients are laughing at me. I can't afford it. Take this man's offer. Wait just a minute." He rose to his feet. "I'll make that a formal motion," and he did so.

With no dissenting voice, except Wallingford's, that motion was carried through, and Wallingford spread it upon the minute-books at once. Also a committee was appointed formally to close the business with Mr. Dorcas, and to transfer to that gentleman, at once, all the properties, rights and good-will of the company.

"Gentlemen, I am very sorry," said Wallingford, much crestfallen in appearance. "I still protest against giving up, but I blame myself for coaxing you into this unfortunate affair."

"Don't mention it," protested Doctor Lazzier, shaking hands. "You meant to do us a favor."

They all agreed with the doctor, and young Corbin felt especially sorry for Wallingford's contrition.

Immediately after the dispersal of the meeting Mr. Wallingford and "Mr. Dorcas" shook hands ecstatically.

"Blackie, you're handier than a hollow cane in Drytown," exulted Wallingford. "Here's where I clean up. I own over one third of this stock. I have invested only one cheap thousand dollars over and above my expenses since I got here, and I'll get a third of this seventeen thousand right back again, so the company, up to date--and I own it all--stands me just a little less than what's left of my winnings on that noble little horse, Whipsaw. Just wait a minute till I send this off to the advertising company," and he wrote rapidly a lengthy telegram.

After he sent away the telegram he remained at his desk a few moments, sketching on one of the proofs of a newspaper "ad" and filling in the lower part.

"Here," said he to Blackie, "is the complete advertisement."

Blackie picked up the proof sheet and glanced over it in evident approval. Taken altogether, it read:

LAUGH AT
THAT WOOZY FEELING
DRINK GINGEREE!
IT PUTS THE GINGER IN YOU
TEN CENTS AT ALL SODA FOUNTAINS

"Within a week," exulted Wallingford, "everybody in the middle states will know all about Gingeree. Before that time I'll have Gingeree invented, and the Gingeree Company organized for half a million dollars. I'll put in the plant and the advertising at one hundred and fifty thousand, sell about twenty-five thousand dollars of treasury stock to start the business, then sell my hundred and fifty thousand and get out."

"You'll have to go out of town to sell your stock," observed Blackie.

"Out of town!" repeated Wallingford. "I should say not! With the good introduction I have here? Not any. I'll sell stock to Doctor Lazzier and young Corbin and young Paley and the rest of the bunch."

Blackie looked at his friend in gasping awe.

"Great guns!" he exploded. "J. Rufus, if you have nerve enough even to figure on that stunt, I believe you can pull it off!"

The door of the office opened and Mrs. Wallingford came in.

"Blackie Daw!" she exclaimed. "And so you are in town and mixed up in Jim's affairs! Jim Wallingford, now I know you are not conducting a straight business!"

Blackie only grinned, but Mr. Wallingford was hurt.

"You're mistaken, Fannie," said he. "You sit right down there, and I'll explain."

He did so. When Wallingford rejoined her in their rooms that evening she had had time to think it all over. She had found no arguments to combat Wallingford's statement of the case. She could not find words to overturn his words, and yet there was a flaw some place that she could not put her finger upon. Knowing this, then, and condoning it, was she not a part sharer in his guilt? Yes, and no. For a solid hour she searched her heart and she could find but one satisfactory answer. No matter what he had done in the past or might do in the future, she knew that she loved him, and whatever path his feet might tread, she knew that she would walk along with him. She had thought at first that she might guide his footsteps into better ways, but now she feared! She knew, too, that in remaining with him she must take him as he was.

And so, when he came to her, she was ready with her customary kiss, in which there was no lack of warmth; nor was there in her eyes any troubled look. He was delighted to find her in this mood.

"I guess you've thought it all over, Fannie," said he, "and can see that at least this one business deal is a dead straight game, just as any good business man would play it."

"Yes," she reluctantly admitted. "I am afraid that business, even straight business, is sometimes conducted along such lines."

But down in her heart of hearts she knew better.

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.