“Because they won’t let you,” says I.
“Never t-tell till you try,” says he. “Come on.”
So we went to the bank, and Mark asked to see Mr. Holmes, who was the president. We went into his office, and Mr. Holmes looked up and smiled and says:
“What can I do for you gentlemen this morning?”
“We want to b-borrow some m-money, Mr. Holmes,” says Mark.
Mr. Holmes shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “That enough?” says he. “What security?”
“This,” says Mark, serious as an owl, “is b-business. We wasn’t calc’latin’ to borrow nothin’ to buy candy. Here’s how it is: You know we’re r-runnin’ Silas Doolittle Bugg’s mill for him, and we’re m-makin’ a go of it. Yes, sir. We’re gittin’ it down to a b-business basis, and we calc’late to make money. If ’twasn’t for Silas Doolittle, we wouldn’t have to b-borrow, but he forgits about seven times as much as he remembers, and one of the things he forgot was that he owed old-man Fugle two hunderd and seventy-two dollars and sixty-one cents.” Then he went on and explained to Mr. Holmes how Mr. Wiggamore was tryin’ to get our dam away from us, and what he had put Jason Barnes up to do, and all that. “Old-man Fugle has give us till Tuesday. If we d-d-don’t p-pay up then, he’ll sell to Jason,” says Mark.
“So that’s how it is,” says Mr. Holmes, and he looked sober and business-like. “You admit you are on the verge of bankruptcy, and come to borrow a large sum of money. Do you think it would be right for me to lend it to you? What if you failed to pay it back?”
“We won’t,” says Mark. “I know we kin m-m-make that mill pay, but if we fall down on it, I’ll p-pay it myself. Yes, sir. I’ll guarantee you git your money.”
“And I believe you would keep your word,” says Mr. Holmes. “I know something about you, young man, and I’d like to help you out, but, really, I don’t see how I can. You’re not of age, you know, and the law won’t let you assume a debt.”