CHAPTER XIX
I don't know how Jehoshaphat P. got back to Wicksville, but he did getback, because I saw him next noon--passed him so our elbows touched. Icouldn't help looking right in his eye and grinning. I expect it waspretty impudent, but--well, it was a special case. If he'd known what Iwas grinning about he'd probably have taken me apart and put metogether wrong--but he didn't know. All he knew was that he had achattel mortgage on the Bazar that was due Friday, and that therewasn't any chance for us to pay it. One of the worst things a man cando is to know facts that aren't so.
Skip scowled at me and says, "You won't have much grinnin' to do afterFriday, young feller."
"Um!" says I. "You can't tell about grins. They grow promiscuous likeCanada thistles. Never can tell where one'll spring up."
"What you goin' to do about that chattel mortgage? Goin' to turn overthe stock without a fuss, or have I got to fetch in the constables anddep'ty-sheriffs and court officers? Eh?"
"Well," says I, "if we're goin' to git busted up we might as well haveall the trimmin's. Can't you call out the militia, too?"
"Who's boss of your store, anyhow? You or that fat boy?"
"I calc'late," says I, "that Mark Tidd's in command."
"Guess I'll see him, then. Maybe I can git him to let go peaceable."
"He'll be glad to see you," says I, with another grin.
Jehoshaphat turned around and made for the Bazar. Mark was waiting on acouple of customers and there were three other folks in the store. Thatwas unusual, but I says to Skip:
"Things is perty dull with us. Only five customers in the store."
He grunted, but didn't say a word. Mark looked up and saw him, but hisexpression never changed.
"Mr. Skip wants to see you when you get time," says I.
He nodded, and in a minute he came over. The woman he'd been waiting ondidn't go out, but hung around to listen, I guess. Folks in Wicksvillewas right on hand when curiosity was being handed out.
"What can I d-do for you?" says Mark to Jehoshaphat.
"Chattel mortgage 's due Friday. What you goin' to do about it?"
Mark got on the dolefulest, mournfulest look I ever saw.
"Mr. Skip," says he, good and loud, so everybody could hear him, "can'tyou give us a l-little time?"
"Not a day," says Skip, snapping his jaws shut.
"I know we owe the money," says Mark, "but we didn't git it of you. Youwent out of your way to buy up that chattel mortgage. You did it justso as to bust up this b-b-business." He didn't say it mean, but justlike he was almost ready to cry. Skip's eyes was blinking withsatisfaction.
"We can p-pay you part of it," says Mark. "Won't you give us time onthe rest?"
"Not a minute," says Skip.
"But, Mr. Skip, think about Mr. Smalley. He's hurt and in the hospital.Think about Mrs. Smalley. This store is all they've got. Nobody knowswhat'll h-happen to 'em if you don't give us time." He was saying thisloud so everybody in the store could hear.
Skip looked around uneasy and says: "There hain't no use hollerin'.This is private talk."
"Maybe it is," says Mark, but he didn't lower his voice. "But what'reyou g-goin' to do? Like as not the Smalleys would have to go to thep-poor-farm or somethin'. You'll git your money, Mr. Skip, if you'lllet us have a little time."
"Not a minute," says Skip, beginning to get mad.
"Then," says Mark, "you want to hurt Mr. Smalley in the hospital, andfix it so his wife hasn't got a cent to buy a meal? Do you want to dothat, Mr. Skip?"
"I hain't got nothin' to do with that. The money's due me and I needit. If you hain't got it to pay I'm goin' to take the stock."
"You won't take part and wait f-for the rest?"
"No," says Skip.
"All right, then," says Mark. "Friday's the day, I expect. It's pertyhard on the Smalleys, though."
Well, sir, you should have seen the customers that were hanging aroundwith their mouths open. They were eying Skip like they thought he wasthe meanest man alive, and I could hear them saying things to eachother under their breath. Skip was getting some fine advertising.
"What I want to know," says Skip, "is, will you turn over the stockwithout a lot of officers and papers?"
"I don't b-believe we can," says Mark. "If you take this stock you gotto take it the way the law says.... Now good-by, Mr. Skip. This storeis ours till Friday, and if you so much as step a foot in it again tillyou c-come with the sheriff somethin' will happen to you that'll makeyou wish you'd fallen down a well."
At that he turned his back and went behind the counter. Skip sneaked alook at the women and slunk out as fast as he could go.
When he was gone you should have heard those five women sail into him.My! the things they said about him! In another hour Wicksville wouldknow just what had been said and just what those five women thoughtabout it. Mark winked at me solemn. When the folks were gone he says:
"P-public opinion, Plunk. Ever hear of it?"
"Yes," says I.
"I'm s-sickin' it on Jehoshaphat. He'll be a popular feller inWicksville. Won't he be popular, though!"
"What's the idea?" says I. "Why didn't you pay him his money and kickhim out?"
"Because," says he, "I want to make folks love him. I want to fix it sof-f-folks will go out of their way to buy from him. Do you think thisfight's over when the mortgage is paid? No, siree. We have got to getthe business of this town and keep it away from Skip. When I'm throughwith Jehoshaphat Wicksville's goin' to think he's about the meanest manthat ever pinched a p-penny."
"What next?" says I.
"A l-little advertisin'," says he.
That afternoon he painted a lot of signs, big and little. Some were forthe wagon, and Binney and Tallow were to drive it around town, bangingon the drum. Others were for our windows and others were to tack up onfences. The one in our window says:
Jehoshaphat P. Skip holds a chattel mortgage on this stock. He bought it just to bust this business. He won't give us time. Friday he's going to seize the Bazar. Everybody come. At two o'clock. Come to see Jehoshaphat P. Skip foreclose his mortgage.
That was one sign, others were like it, but every one said somethingdifferent and something that wasn't calculated to make folks fond ofSkip. All day Wednesday and all day Thursday we kept them going,inviting folks to be on hand to see the end of the Bazar.
"How do you know it'll be at two o'clock?" says I.
Mark grinned. "I saw the sheriff," says he, "and f-fixed it up."
Wouldn't that beat you? He'd thought of everything.
Friday came along just as the calendar said it would, but it seemed tous it took quite a while to do it. When you've got a surprise in yourpocket all ready to spring, it always takes the right minute a longtime to get there. In the mean time we went along just as if nothingwas going to happen, and we didn't let on to a soul what we had inpickle for Jehoshaphat. We just kept advertising the foreclosure at twoo'clock Friday afternoon like it was some sort of bargain sale. It wasa novelty, all right. Folks don't usually brag about being busted, sofolks took quite an interest, and we were certain to have a good crowdon hand. I guess they figured something out of the ordinary wouldhappen. That was on account of Mark Tidd and his reputation.
Lots of folks stopped in to tell us how sorry they were and to tell ustheir opinion of Jehoshaphat P. Sympathy doesn't cost a cent, so youcan always get more of it than you need. But it did show that Mark hadfixed things so Skip wouldn't be the best-loved man in our county,which was something, anyhow.
Friday morning seemed like it could have held all the seven days of theweek. We took lunch in the Bazar. At a quarter to two Mark had us put abig sign in each window that said:
ALL READY FOR THE FORECLOSURE EVERYBODY WELCOME
There was a good crowd there--probably fifty or sixty people--when Skipand the officer came in. The officer went over to Mark and says:
"I've come to take charg
e of this stock, young feller."
"But," says Mark, "d-don't you have to give folks a chance to pay upbefore you seize the store?"
"Yes," says the officer, "but I understood there wasn't any chance ofthat."
"Um!" says Mark, and he scrambled up on top of the counter. "Folks,"says he, as calm and cool as a chunk of ice, "here's Jehoshaphat P.Skip and the officer to put us out of business. They've got a chattelmortgage for f-five hundred dollars, and if we can't pay it the Bazaris b-busted. You know about Mr. Smalley. You've all been friends of hisfor years. What d'you think of a man who'll take away everything Mr.Smalley's got, just out of m-meanness?"
"Here," says the officer, "none of that, now. Git off'n that counterand keep quiet."
Mark looked down at him and says:
"I've talked this thing over with my lawyer, and I know what I can doand what I c-can't. I can keep possession of this store till twelveo'clock to-night if I want to. So, if you want to have yourf-foreclosure to-day just hold your horses till I get through talkin'."
The officer scowled a bit and then grinned and said to go ahead withthe celebration.
"Mr. Smalley didn't borrow this f-five hundred dollars from Mr. Skip.But what does Mr. Skip do? He sneaks around and finds out about it, andb-buys up the mortgage so he can use it to put the Bazar out ofbusiness. He knew there wasn't room for his store and this one inWicksville, so he started in to git rid of us. He's been m-mean andunderhanded from the start. He tried to get our credit cut off with thewholesale houses, and whatever he could d-do to hurt us he's gone aheadand done it."
Skip stood and scowled and wabbled his nose back and forth, but hedidn't say a word.
Mark went on: "We had to m-make money for Mr. Smalley in the hospital,and we had to keep the business running. That took all we could make.So if we paid this chattel mortgage up we'd have to get the money someother way.
"Well, folks, it happened that Mr. Skip didn't know how long he'd lasthere, so he didn't t-take a lease of the store he's in. We found thatout. Then, folks, we went and got a lease of it ourselves. We could 'a'kicked Skip out of it, but we didn't want to do that. We wanted top-pay off the mortgage."
He stopped and looked down at Skip and grinned. Folks all looked atSkip, too. He was white, he was so mad, and if all the folks hadn'tbeen there I don't know what he'd have done, but he didn't dare wiggle.Mark started in again.
"We wanted Skip to pay himself the f-five hundred dollars. That's whatwe wanted. Right there, folks, he paid part of it. We made him p-paytwo hundred dollars to stay in his store. He didn't know he was payin'it to us, but he was." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bundleof bills. "There's the very identical money he paid us. Two hundredd-dollars of it.... There, Mr. Skip, is t-two hundred dollars onaccount. It's from you to yourself." And Mark tossed the money down tothe officer. I thought Skip would choke.
"But that wasn't enough," says Mark. "There was three hundreddollars more. It seemed like we couldn't raise that much, but thisweek we arranged to have Mr. Skip p-pay that to himself, too. We didit this way: over in Sunfield was a man named Hoffer who had af-f-five-and-ten-cent store. He wanted to sell cheap. We knew aboutit and we fixed it so Skip heard about it, too. He started over tobuy. We started the same day--and we beat him there. But we didn'thave any m-m-money to buy with. That's where Skip came in handyagain. We went to Mr. Hoffer and got him to give us an option on hisstock at nine hundred d-dollars. Then we went to a lawyer to handleit for us. Skip came to see the lawyer, not knowin' we had anythingto do with it, and the lawyer sold him the stock we had bought atnine hundred dollars for twelve hundred and twenty-fivedollars--givin' us a p-p-profit of three hundred d-dollars andpayin' our lawyer for his services. Perty kind of Skip, wasn't it?Eh, Mr. Skip? And, Mr. Skip, there's the three hundred dollars. Thesame b-bills you gave us. That squares us, Mr. Skip. You've p-paidyourself what we owed you and we're much obliged. 'Tain't every manwould be so kind." Here he tossed over the three hundred.
You should have seen Skip. He couldn't say a word. I don't believe hecould think. He just stood and trembled, he was so furious, and waggledhis nose, and his Adam's apple went up and down like an elevator in abusy building. And the folks yelled. It wasn't a cheer; it was a laugh.They hollered. Men and women threw back their heads and laughed likeI've never seen folks laugh before. And the things they said to Skip! Iwouldn't have had folks poke fun at me like that for seven times fivehundred dollars. Mark held up his hand.
"I advertised this f-foreclosure," he said, with a grin, "so allWicksville would know what kind of a man Skip is. I wanted Wicksvilleto appreciate how generous he is. I hope after this f-folks won'tbother to trade here at the Bazar. We don't deserve it, for all we dois give an honest bargain for every cent you spend here. Go to Skip....And now, Mr. Skip, you've got your money. I calc'late you and theofficer hain't got anythin' more to d-do here, and I'll bet you've gotbusiness somewheres else. So good afternoon, Mr. Skip; and, Mr. Skip,you might carry off the thought that competition in business is allright, but that folks that tries to squeeze and won't play f-fair isapt to git into a pinch themselves.... Good afternoon, Mr. Skip."
Skip and the officer started for the door, with folks jostling them andmaking funny remarks and laughing at them fit to bust. I'll bet he wasglad to get to the door, and the way he shot out into the street anddodged toward his own place was enough to make you laugh if you had asore tooth.
Then folks crowded around Mark, and he stood and let them admire him,and enjoyed it to beat everything. Mr. Bloom got up on a chair and says:
"Fellow-townsmen, that there man Skip hain't the sort of citizen wewant here. There's some way to git rid of him. You know what that is."
"You bet," says Chet Weevil, "just keep away from his store."
"That's the ticket," says Mr. Bloom. "Now, folks, see what you can do.It won't take long."
"Jest you watch us," says Mr. Hoover. "We'll 'tend to Skip."
Mark stood up again. "Now, folks," he says, "the place is ready forbusiness again. You'll find us behind the counters, and we'll be theresix days a week, ready to g-g-give you your money's worth and a littlemore every time."
The crowd hung around a spell, gabbling and talking and buying a fewthings, but they finally left and we four were alone.
"Mark," says I, "I'm goin' to write mother now. Whatever else there isto do can wait. And when her letter comes back I'm goin' to give it toyou. She'll say in it the things that I hain't got any idea of how tosay right."
"There don't need to anybody say anything," says he, but all the same Iknew he'd be pretty disappointed if nobody did, and I knew he'd wantmother's letter to keep always. There was Mark's little weakness. Hecould do big things and fine things and he was honest and the sort offellow you could downright admire--but he did like to be admired. Idon't know as I blame him. I'd like to be admired myself if I couldfind some way of making folks do it.
CONCLUSION
That's about all there is to it. Skip stuck it out two weeks, then hemoved over to Sunfield into Mr. Hoffer's store where he couldn't botherus any more. And that was the last of him.
The business was a little slack at first, but it began to pick up in aday or two, and just before the Saturday when the announcement of theresult of the beauty contest was to be made there was quite a rush.Mark Tidd had stirred it up with advertising. The last time we put upthe names before the final count the contestants stood:
Mr. Pilkins, 967 votes.
Mr. Bloom, 958 votes.
Chet Weevil, 947 votes.
Chancy Miller, 941 votes.
Of course there were others, but these men were at the top and nobodywas near them.
Well, sir, on Saturday morning in came young Mr. Hopkins, whose fatherowns the bank, and bought a phonograph just like Old Mose Miller's, anda lot of records. It gave him eleven hundred votes.
"You can v-vote 'em for yourself," says Mark, with a grin, "and electyourself the handsomest m-man in town."
Mr. Hopkins, who wa
s a bully fellow, grinned back. "What'll I do with'em?" says he.
Mark's eyes twinkled. "It wouldn't be f-f-fair for me to suggestanything," says he, "but if those votes were mine I'll bet I'd havesome f-f-fun with 'em."
Mr. Hopkins thought a few minutes and then began writing a name onevery ballot. It took him quite a while. I couldn't see who it was, butall of a sudden Mark started to grin and I knew there was a joke onsomebody.
"Who is it?" says I.
"Peabody," says Mark. "Jupiter Peabody."
"Don't know him," says I. I didn't, either. I'd never heard of such aman. "Who is he?"
"Oh, he's been living here a long time," says Mr. Hopkins. "Maybe younever happened to meet him, though."
I racked my brains, but for the life of me I couldn't catch on to whohe was.
At half past two the list was to go up, and there was a crowd on hand.Everybody was anxious, especially Chet and Chancy and some of thewomen. The men mostly pretended it was a joke, anyhow, and they didn'tcare how it came out--but they did care, all the same.
Prompt on the minute Mark stepped into the window and pasted up thelist. For a minute the folks were quiet; then there was a hubbub.Everybody was astonished. Here, at the last minute, somebody had comein and beaten everybody.
"Peabody," says a man, "who's Jupiter Peabody? I know Sam Peabody, buthe hain't got no relatives named Jupiter that I know of."
"Me, neither," says Mr. Bloom. "Anyhow he's handsomer'n I be. I'd liketo git a look at him."
Chet and Chancy both looked like they wanted to cry.
"Who is it?" says Chet.
"Never heard of him," says Chancy, "but I'll bet he's homelier'n yoube."
"Anyhow," says Chet, "he probably hain't got curly hair."
It looked for a minute like there might be a scrimmage, but just thenan old man came along, driving a dump-cart filled with pumpkins.
"There," says Mr. Bloom, "is Sam Peabody. Let's ask him if he knowsthis Jupiter."
So they stopped the old fellow, and Mr. Bloom says:
"Got any relatives livin' here?"
"No," says Mr. Peabody, "nary relative."
"Any other Peabodys hereabouts that you know of?"
The old man shook his head slow and allowed he didn't know of any.
"Well," says Mr. Bloom, "this here is a mystery, all right. Here's aJupiter Peabody that's won the handsomest-man contest, and nobody knowshim."
"What?" says the old fellow. "What's that? Won the handsomest-mancontest? Got most votes for bein' the handsomest man in Wicksville?Ho!" He threw back his head and roared. "Handsomest man! Whee! Think ofthat, now." He sat a minute laughing like all-git-out; then he reachedout with his whip and touched his mule. "Giddap, Jupiter!" says he."Giddap!"
It was a minute before folks caught on--and then you should have heardthe laugh. Jupiter, Jupiter Peabody--a mule. And he'd been elected thehandsomest man in Wicksville. Everybody, including even Chet andChancy, roared so hard they almost choked, and they pounded each otheron the back and danced up and down and shrieked. It was the funniestjoke that ever happened in Wicksville.
Maybe if a real man had won the losers would have been mad, but nobodywon but a mule! And everybody saw the joke. I guess it was about thebest way the thing could have come out.
So that was the end of the beauty contest.
In another two weeks father came home, a little lame, but so he wouldbe all right in no time, and mother came with him. I'll never forgetthe way she took Mark Tidd by the hand, nor what she said to him. Itmade him blink his eyes, I can tell you.
"Mark," she says, "it's a fine thing to have brains that you can schemewith, and it's fine to be brave, and it's fine to be able to stick tothings to the very end, but when you add to that a heart that's willingto do things for other folks, and that is happiest when it's helpingsomebody that needs help, you've got about the finest kind of a manthere is. And that's the kind of man you're going to be, Mark. I'm gladmy son is your friend."
I felt the same way about it myself.
THE END
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Books for Boys by a Master of Fiction
The Mark Tidd Stories
By CLARENCE BUDINGTON KELLAND
MARK TIDD
An ingenious fat boy and his three friends meet danger and excitementin solving the mystery of the strange footprint in their secret cave.
MARK TIDD IN BUSINESS
Mark and his three friends take Smalley's Bazaar and make a success ofit, in spite of unfair competition from the villain of the story.
MARK TIDD, EDITOR
The resourceful fat boy runs a country newspaper. As editor, foreman ofthe press room, circulation manager and business manager, he makes theWicksville Trumpet a paying proposition.
MARK TIDD, MANUFACTURER
The boys take over an old mill fallen into disrepair and soon have itshowing a profit. How Mark outwits the unscrupulous representative of abig power company makes an irresistibly funny book.
MARK TIDD IN THE BACKWOODS
Mark turns detective and foils a scheme to defraud his pal's uncle--anexciting story of mystery and fun.
MARK TIDD'S CITADEL
The boys run into mystery in a closed-up summer hotel where they rescuea kidnapped Samurai boy from his pursuers.
MARK TIDD IN ITALY
Here is fun and action aplenty and a story that will hold Mark's oldfriends and make many new ones.
GROSSET & DUNLAP : Publishers : NEW YORK
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOKS FOR BOYS
Thrilling best-seller tales of mystery and adventure
THE SPOTLIGHT BOOKS
STOCKY OF LONE TREE RANCH Chas. H. Snow CRIMSON ICE C. Fitzsimmons 70,000 WITNESSES C. Fitzsimmons DEATH ON THE DIAMOND C. Fitzsimmons FLASH GORDON Alex Raymond TAILSPIN TOMMY Mark Stevens SMILEY ADAMS R.J. Burrough HAWK OF THE WILDERNESS W. L. Chester THE PONY EXPRESS Henry James Forman THE IRON HORSE Edwin C. Hill THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW TIE Laurence Dwight Smith
THE LONE RANGER BOOKS by Fran Striker
THE LONE RANGER THE LONE RANGER AND THE MYSTERY RANCH THE LONE RANGER AND THE GOLD ROBBERY THE LONE RANGER AND THE OUTLAW STRONGHOLD THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO
THE G-MEN BOOKS
THE G-MEN SMASH THE "PROFESSOR'S" GANG William Engle THE G-MEN IN JEOPARDY Laurence D. Smith THE G-MEN TRAP THE SPY RING Laurence D. Smith
THE JIMMIE DRURY BOOKS by David O'Hara
JIMMIE DRURY: CANDID CAMERA DETECTIVE JIMMIE DRURY: WHAT THE DARK ROOM REVEALED JIMMIE DRURY: CAUGHT BY THE CAMERA
GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK
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