“I’m not betting. Just the same I am well satisfied with what I have sold.”
Grant Deems continued to grumble and to threaten our hero, and at last moved away in a very bad humor. Frank entered the boarding house and got supper. The rival agent did not appear.
The next day Frank went out bright and early. He was “on his mettle,” as the saying is, and bound to take all the orders possible. He worked with vigor, and by three o’clock in the afternoon had six orders to his credit. Then he called on the party who had wanted to consider the set of famous novels.
“I’ll take the set of works,” said the person. “I wanted to look at the set that rival agent has. But I like yours much better.”
“When was he here, if I may ask?” questioned our hero.
“This morning. He was very anxious to take the order and wanted to throw off ten per cent. But I told him I was going to take your books.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He went off as mad as a hornet.”
Frank took the order and then went back to his boarding house, to write letters to New York, and to his folks at home.
Hardly had he seated himself in his room when the door burst open and Grant Deems rushed in.