“Don’t you know it is?” challenged Frank, arising to welcome Ned Davis, a bright young fellow, who was the messenger of the local bank.
“All right,” chirped Ned. “Got a letter this morning from a correspondent at Bayview. Enclosure. Man running a small store there asks us if Frank’s Mail Order House is a reliable concern. If so, instructs us to place this order with you.”
Ned importantly spread out quite a voluminous order list before Frank.
“Accompanied with the cash,” added Ned, and set down a crisp, encouraging-looking five-dollar bill beside the document.
“Oh!” ejaculated Markham, almost falling off his chair with surprise.
“Ned,” said Frank, with a touch of genuine feeling, “thank you.”
“That’s all right,” responded Ned. “We’re simply working to get your bank account when it runs up into the thousands, see?”
“Will it ever, I wonder?” murmured Frank.
“Isn’t that a nest egg?” challenged the practical young financier.