CHAPTER II
PARTNERS CONFER
Alton Academy commenced its Fall Term on September 24th that year, andon the afternoon of the nineteenth Russell Emerson dropped from thetrain at Alton Station, a battered valise in hand, and, disregardingthe cordial invitations of carriage and taxi drivers, set forth onfoot. It appears to be a New England custom to locate the railroadstation as far as possible from the center of the town, and Alton hadmade no departure from custom. A good half-mile intervened betweenstation and business center, and a second half-mile between the heartof the town and Alton Academy. There had been a time when Alton andAlton Station had been two quite distinct settlements, but now thetown had followed the route of the trolley and the two were slenderlyconnected by a line of small dwellings, small shops and, occasionally,a small factory. Russell followed the trolley tracks and, althoughpresently a car came rattling and whisking toward him from thedirection of the station, continued on foot, the valise growing heavieras the stores became more important and more prosperous in appearance.But the boy rested frequently, always before one of the little stores,and at such times the valise was set down beside him on the pavementwhile his gaze roved from door to window and when possible penetratedpast the usually unattractive display of goods into the further dimrecesses of the building. Oddly, as it would seem, his pauses werelonger and his interest greater when the window was empty of goods anda placard announced the premises for rent. Indeed, on three occasionshe crossed the street to peer up at and into tenantless stores, and ontwo occasions he jotted down memoranda on the back of an envelope erehe took up his burden and went on.
Reaching the busier and more populous part of Alton, he turned to theleft, past the town’s single department store, and halted under a signwhich read: “Hartford House--Gentlemen Only--One Flight.” Russellpushed open the door and climbed the stairs. The office was at theleft of the landing, a clean, sun-filled room through whose broadwindows one might look down on the traffic of the street or watch, ifone cared to, the casements across the way, beyond which a tailor, aPainless Dentist and a manufacturing jeweler plied their trades. Atthe desk, presided over by an elderly man with abundant gray whiskers,Russell set his name down in an ink-smeared register, paid the sum ofseventy-five cents and was presented with a key.
“Eighteen,” said the clerk wheezily. “One flight, turn to the left.Thank you.”
Acting as his own bell-boy, Russell took himself and his luggage tothe second floor, found the door numbered 18 and took possession of avery small, barely furnished room which had, nevertheless, the merit ofcleanliness. He ran the shade up, opened the window and found himselflooking down on the roof of the Imperial Steam Laundry, as a boldinscription painted on the corrugated iron roof informed him. Beyondthe laundry were the brick backs of several office buildings.
“Not much of a view,” murmured Russell tolerantly, “but plenty of air.Now let’s see.” He stripped off his coat and placed it, with a somewhatyellowed straw hat, on the narrow bed. Then, rolling up his sleeves,he poured water into the chipped basin and washed face and hands. Thatdone, he dried on a wispy towel and opened his valise. From it heextracted a thin bundle of papers held together by an elastic band,placed a chair before the window and seated himself, lodging his feetcomfortably on the ledge. For the next ten minutes he was busy lookingthrough the contents of the bundle. That completed, he brought forth afountain pen from a pocket and began to figure thoughtfully on the backof one of the papers.
“Eighty-eight, sixty in bank,” he muttered as he set down thatsum. “Check for one hundred and twenty-five. Fifteen and--” Hepaused and counted the contents of a small leather purse. “Fifteenand seventy-four. It’ll cost me three dollars for my room here forfour days and, say, four dollars for meals. That’s seven dollars.Then there’ll be incidentals. Guess I’ll say ten altogether. Ten,seventy-four rather. That leaves five. Now then. Naught, six, eight andone to carry, one--two hundred and eighteen dollars and sixty cents.”
He gazed for a long minute at the result of his figuring and finallyshook his head. “That isn’t nearly enough,” he sighed. “Maybe, though,Stick can do better than he thought he could. If he can put in twohundred more I guess we can manage.” He looked at his watch. “Ought tobe here in an hour. Guess I’ll go out and have a look around before hegets here.”
He put his coat on again and took his hat and sallied forth, stoppingat the office long enough to leave his key and to inform the clerkthat he would be back at five o’clock, in case any one should inquirefor him. Then for the better part of an hour he roamed the streets inthat portion of Alton which lay between the Hartford House and theAcademy, specializing on the side streets but not neglecting suchimportant arteries of traffic and avenues of trade as Meadow and Westand State streets. He was back at a minute or two before five and hadmade himself comfortable in one of the six wooden armchairs that stoodempty in a row before the windows when feet echoed on the stairway,the office door was pushed open and a very tall, very thin youthappeared. He carried a suit-case, an overcoat and an umbrella, all ofwhich, perceiving Russell across the room, he dumped on the desk beforestepping to meet him.
“Hello, Rus,” he greeted. “How long have you been here? Have you got aroom? Do I bunk in with you, or--”
“You’ll have to get one of your own,” replied Russell as they shookhands. “Mine’s just a single one. Guess they all are. How are you,Stick? Haven’t fattened up much this summer.”
“I’m very well, thanks. Wait till I register and we’ll go up and have atalk. Got your letter about ten minutes before I left. Thought you weredead or something.”
In a room very similar to that assigned to Russell, the two seatedthemselves, George Patterson on the bed and Russell on the singlechair. Stick, as he was called, was a boy of Russell’s own age, whichwas seventeen, but looked fully a year older. He came from St. Albans,Vermont, according to the school catalogue, and the catalogue was quiteinfallible on such subjects, but before that Stick had lived--in facthad been born--in Toronto, and there was much more of the Canadianthan the Yankee in him. He was extremely tall and extremely thin,with high cheek bones, a good deal of color, very dark brown hairthat curled, gray eyes, a generous nose and a rather large mouth. Youcouldn’t call him handsome, but he looked particularly healthy andclean and wholesome. One of the things that Russell liked most abouthim was his appearance of having just stepped out of a bath, and evennow, after a long train journey, that appearance persisted. The twowere room-mates in Upton Hall. They had been thrown together quite byaccident the preceding fall and had not yet regretted the fact; which,I think, speaks well for each of them.
Stick wasn’t an awfully brilliant chap. In fact, there were some whodeclared that he was rather a bore. But Russell was used to him, and hehad long since decided that an even temper and similar attributes werepreferable in a room-mate to mere conversational scintillations. Stickhad rather a peculiar sense of humor, or, perhaps, lack of humor. Headored a practical joke when it was on some one else, but saw no funin such a joke played on himself. As a fair sample of his ideal in theway of a funny story it may be stated that his favorite was a ratherlong and ponderous tale about a London window-washer who fell from thesixth story of a building and landed on a “bobby.” To Stick there wassomething irresistibly appealing to his sense of humor in the factthat the policeman was killed and the window-washer wasn’t! But Stickwas a fellow who wore remarkably well, and, after all, that’s a finequality in a room-mate.
“Well, I brought the money,” he announced after a few exchanges ofremarks anent the past vacation.
“How much?” asked Russell anxiously.
“A hundred and twenty-five.”
“A hundred and twent-- But, Stick, you said it would be a hundred andfifty at least!”
“I didn’t say it positively,” disclaimed the other. “I did think Icould put in that much, Rus, but--well, I just can’t do it.” Then,after a short pause, he added in a desire to be strictly truthful: “Imea
n, I don’t think I ought to, Rus. Of course, it’s my money, and allthat, but father doesn’t think very well of the idea, and if he neededmoney some time he’d expect me to let him have a little, and if I putit all into this I won’t have any left. You see, we don’t know forcertain that this thing’s going to be a go. I hope it will be, for I’dhate to lose that money, but there’s nothing sure about it, is there?”
Russell shook his head. “No, nothing’s sure until it’s happened, Stick,but this thing is bound to go all right. Gee, it’s just got to!”
“Yes, I know,” Stick agreed without much enthusiasm, “but things don’talways succeed because some one says they’ve got to.”
Russell sighed. “I wish your grandmother hadn’t married a Scotsman,Stick!”
“What’s that got to do with--”
“You’ll die a poor man, Stick, just on that account,” returned his chumgloomily. “Left to itself, the Irish in you would risk a dollar now andthen, but that Scotch blood sets up a howl every time.”
“It’s all right to take a chance,” said Stick seriously, “but there’sno sense in being risky. I say, with what you have, won’t a hundred andtwenty-five do?”
“It will have to,” answered Russell grimly, “if that’s all you’ll comein with. I’ve gone too far now to back down. I spent a whole day in NewYork, and every one was mighty decent, and I arranged for a whole raftof stuff to come down the twenty-second. The Proctor-Farnham peopleeven offered me ninety days’ credit. You see, their goods are new inthe East, Stick, and they’re making a big try to get them going. Theymake mighty good stuff, too, and I’m pretty certain we can sell a lotof it once we’re started. Of course we’ll have to carry the othermakes, too. Some fellows won’t look at a thing unless they grew up withit! Well, anyway, they were quite enthusiastic about the scheme andwould have pretty near stocked us up for nothing if I’d agreed to sellonly their stuff. But that wouldn’t do. Not yet, anyhow. They offeredto send a man down to arrange a window display, but I had to declinethat, for I didn’t want them to know that we hadn’t even found a storeyet. They might have thought I was crazy. As it was I did a good dealof bluffing, I guess, and talked as if I had about a million dollars.The other folks were a heap more haughty, although they were willingenough to let us have a fair line of samples. They don’t have to offerinducements to sell their goods, you see. Well, now about the money,Stick. I’ve got a little more than two hundred. That’s three hundredand twenty-five, about three hundred and forty, really. I’d hoped forfour hundred at least. It means that we’ll have to be satisfied with amore modest store, for it’s store rent that’s going to be the principalexpense for a while. I’ve been pretty well over the town, Stick. Thereare two places I’d love to have, but they’re both on West street andthe rent would be something awful. Then there are a couple of placesout on the way to the station. They’d be cheap enough, but I guess wemight just as well throw our money away as locate out there. Fellowsnever get that far from school.”
“No, we’ve got to be somewhere around Bagdad,” replied Stick. Bagdadwas the Academy name for the two blocks on West street lying nearestto the school. Here was established a small shopping district quitedistinct from that further in the town, one depending largely, thoughby no means wholly, on the students for trade. The stores that linedboth sides of the street were usually small, but, in the parlance oftrade, “select.” One found neckties of a rather more “zippy” coloringhere, hats with a more rakish air, shoes with more character, clothingthat bordered yet did not infringe on the sporty. And, of course, thestationery store carried the sort of books and blanks and bindersand pens that Alton Academy affected, while The Mirror specializedin such highly colored and ultra sweet concoctions of ice cream andsyrups, fruits and nuts as are beloved of all preparatory school youthseverywhere. Bagdad, in short, provided for so many of the wants ofAlton students that only once in a blue moon was it necessary for themto seek further afield.
“Yes,” Russell agreed, “but I don’t believe we can find anything veryclose that we can afford to take. There’s one place--”
He broke off to look thoughtfully across at Stick.
“Well?” prompted the latter.
“It’s upstairs, over The Parisian Tailors, on West street. But I don’tlike the idea, Stick. You know yourself that a chap won’t climb aflight of stairs if he can find the same thing by walking a block ortwo further. And there’s Crocker’s store only five doors beyond. Iguess that wouldn’t do.”
“Let’s go and have another look,” suggested Stick. “There must be someplace we can have. We’ve got an hour before we need to eat, Rus. Whatdo you say?”
“All right, but there’s no use going to Bagdad. We might try Riverstreet below West.”
“Huh, no fellow ever sets foot over there! I say, I’ve got it!”
“Shoot, then, Stick.”
“We’ll hire half a store from some one who doesn’t need it!”
“Why, yes, that might do,” replied Russell slowly, “but where are wegoing to find it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we can’t, but it’s an idea, isn’t it? Something towork on, eh? Let’s go and have a look.”