The career of the Havens was quite as remarkable. They now ran the leading weekly newspaper in Pleasantville, and had a job printing business that employed two men besides themselves.
Stet, the boy they had rescued from hard usage and extortion at the hands of their rival, Jasper Mackey, publisher of the Pleasantville Eagle, had become a valued fixture with them.
Mrs. Haven, who furnished fashion plates for some city magazines, got up an original pen and ink sketch for the Herald each week. The Haven boys were generally conceded to get out the most readable weekly newspaper in that section of the state.
“I declare,” said Frank, with a grateful and a gratified look about the place, “you fellows have just about equipped me for business.”
“Oh, not yet,” said Bob Haven. “My sister is away for a month, and I have arranged to loan you her typewriter till you can afford to get one of your own.”
“Say,” broke in Markham, eagerly, “I’m just at home on that machine.”
“Good for you,” approved Bob. “Then there’s a painter, here owes us a bill for printing he never could pay in cash. He’s painting a neat gold-lettered sign for the front of your place. ‘Frank’s Mail Order House.’”
“Yes,” put in Darry, “and I’ve dug out of storage an upright showcase we took for a debt. It’s got twelve glass shelves. Set it up at the edge of the walk with samples of the various articles you are going to sell, and I’ll warrant many farmer groups coming to town will drop in to look around and invest.”
“This is simply immense,” said Frank. “I’m just bursting with vanity, or self-importance, or ambition, or something of that sort.”
He briefly outlined his plans to his friends. Frank had only that day held a two hours’ consultation with John Dawes, who owned the novelty works at the edge of the town.