“Well, then, the next day,” snarled Jackson Devore. “And tell your father I won’t wait a minute longer. He has let his business run down and go to pieces, and it looks to me like he didn’t intend to pay anything.” And out of the store bounded the man, shaking his head and his fist at the same time.
“This is certainly getting interesting,” said Frank to himself. “We will have to do something soon; that is certain.”
He had exactly twenty-seven dollars on hand, and this cash he took home at supper time. Then he told his parents of what had happened during the day.
“I expected it,” groaned Mr. Hardy. “To keep the store going longer would be folly. I may as well sell out as best I can, and settle these bills as best I can, too.”
“Who will you sell out to?” asked Frank.
“I’m sure I don’t know. I might offer the place to my rivals.”
“They wouldn’t buy anything but the stock.”
“They might be able to use the fixtures, such as they are.”
“I’ll tell you what I can do,” said Frank. “I can go to each of our rivals and get them to submit offers. Perhaps they will bid pretty well against each other—for each wants the business in this town, and they know your good will is worth something.”
“That is a good idea!” said Mr. Hardy, brightening. “You might go and see both of them this evening, if you wish.”