Joe had already ordered a small assortment of package candies, chewing-gum, and such things from Cincinnati, had made arrangements with the news company for current magazines and certain out-of-town papers, had arranged with the two Amesville journals for fifty copies to be delivered daily, and had spent the larger part of their principal in the purchase of cigars, cigarettes, and tobacco. Although he brought as little of everything as he could, he discovered to his dismay that on Wednesday morning he had but seven dollars of the original thirty left. I don’t think either Joe or Jack did very well at lessons that day. It was frightfully hard to keep their minds on their school work, so impatient were they to get to the stand and start business. Joe went over his newspaper route on Tuesday for the last time. He had some slight misgivings about abandoning that employment, for although it brought him but three dollars, the money was certain. However, nothing venture, nothing have; and he was pretty certain, too, that he could find work again with the Recorder if necessary.
So just as soon as school was dismissed the two boys hurried down town to their place of business, as Jack importantly phrased it. The counter shone freshly white and the handsome showcase, three feet in length by twenty-two inches in breadth, nickel-trimmed, with mirrors set in the sliding panels at the back, had been cleaned and polished until it was speckless. They raised the hinged end of the counter and stepped inside. Joe turned a switch and a flood of mellow light shone down from the neat ground-glass dome above. Many bundles had already been unpacked and their contents stowed on the shelves under the counter, but others awaited them, and they set to work. There was not much room between counter and wall, but there was enough to move about in. The counter was two feet wide, leaving the space behind it not quite three feet. The showcase had been placed midway between wall and hinged flap and there was two feet of solid counter on each side of it. If necessary they could make use of the hinged portion as well and pass under it instead of lifting it up. But at present there was plenty of room for all their goods without availing themselves of that section. The shelves underneath were roomy and the sliding doors were supplied with a neat Yale lock. Joe inserted his key in it, pushed aside a panel and revealed their store of smokers’ articles. It was a quarter to four and they worked busily to get things in shape against the time the occupants of the building began to leave. They expected to sell no more today than a few evening papers, but they wanted the public to know that the stand was opened for business.
The cigars and tobacco and cigarettes went into the case. Joe had to do a lot of arranging before he managed to make them occupy enough of the space to satisfy him. Even then the showcase looked pretty empty. “We ought to have about a dozen boxes of cigars,” he said, “to make a showing. I’ll have to spread everything out in here or else it will look as if we didn’t have anything!”
Jack, struggling with a bundle of confectionery on the counter, grunted assent. Joe, finally closing the showcase, pulled out a dozen or so magazines from underneath and arranged them on the counter. Then came the candy, most of it in half-pound boxes, and a varied assortment of gum and enticing confections put up in tiny tin boxes. There was some discussion as to where these things should be placed. In the end some were put on top the showcase and the rest ranged between the magazines and the wall. The space at the other side of the case was reserved for newspapers and a few minutes later the fifty copies of the Recorder arrived, were paid for, and spread on the counter. With them were a half-dozen copies of morning papers from Cleveland, Columbus, Springfield, Sandusky, Cincinnati, and Dayton. At last everything was in place and the boys emerged into the corridor to view the result. It certainly looked attractive and business-like, and they were hugely pleased. Joe rearranged the boxes of candy so that the colored tops would show better and then Jack went back behind the counter and between them they distributed the price cards. These were small squares or oblongs of gray cardboard with black lettering and had been done by the man who performed such work for Strobe and Wonson. A number of small, weighted holders had been purchased—an extravagance that Joe had resisted at first—and the cards were slipped between the wire loops. Jack again emerged to view the effect.
“Looks swell, doesn’t it?” he asked. Joe agreed that it did, and one of the elevator boys, who had been an interested observer at intervals, now stepped from his car and joined them. He was a tall, raw-boned youth of seventeen or eighteen, by name Martin Olson, but generally known as Ole. Ole had a shock of carroty red hair and an unattractive flat face liberally sprinkled with large freckles that matched his hair. Neither Joe nor Jack had taken to Ole much, but his praise of the news-stand now inclined them more favourably toward him.
“Best looking little shop in town,” he announced enthusiastically. “That’s a swell glass case you’ve got there, too.” He examined the contents. “You ought to have some Dobbins, though. Dobbins are the best five-cent smoke there is. What kind of cigarettes have you got? Uh-huh, I see. There’s lots of fellows in the building smokes Scimitars, though. You’d ought to lay in some of those, I guess.”
“We’ll find out pretty quick what’s wanted,” replied Joe. “What we should have, though, is a lighter. Guess we’d better have some matches on the showcase until we can get a lighter. You tend shop, Jack, and I’ll go and get some.” When he returned from a trip around the corner to the nearest grocery Ole had departed, but the second elevator attendant had taken his place. He was a younger lad, short and stocky and red-cheeked, with a wealth of assurance and a fine command of slang. His name was Walter. There was probably more to it, but the boys never learned it. Walter was equally complimentary.
“Some stand, kiddoes, believe me,” he affirmed. “All to the cheese. Say, what kind o’ cigs do you handle? Got any Moorish Beauties?”
“No, we haven’t,” said Jack.
“You ought to, then. They’re the best. Lots o’ fellers smokes Beauties.”