“Not necessarily. Mrs. O’Mally can still sell them to the canning company.”
It began to look as though we were going to get turned down. And I could see that Poppy was worried.
“But they’re trying to cheat her, Mr. Lorring,” he burst out. “That’s one reason why we stepped in. All they agree to pay her is ninety cents a bushel.”
The banker held up a big red hand.
“Wait a minute,” says he, sort of quiet-like. “A thing you want to learn, Poppy, if you’re going to be a good business man, is not to go around telling people that your competitor is a cheat. As a matter of fact, Mr. Pennykorn isn’t a cheat. He’s just close-fisted in his business dealings, that’s all. He isn’t forcing any of the farmers to sell their stuff to him. And the mere fact that his prices are low doesn’t stamp his dealings as being crooked. I will say, however, in justice to your viewpoint, that his way of doing business isn’t right according to my notion. And if we could clear up the situation for the local farmers by starting another canning factory, I’d be in favor of it. However, with all due respect to your other manufacturing success, the organization of such a factory isn’t a job for two boys.”
“But, Mr. Lorring—”
“Just a minute,” the big hand came up again. “The point that I am going to make is this: You can’t borrow money here with the specific idea of starting up a pickle factory. However, having confidence in you, because of past associations, I’m willing to advance you five hundred dollars on a thirty-day note at six per cent, to enable you to swing this pickle deal and thus save yourself from loss. If you find in selling your pickles that you have what would seem to be the nucleus of another industry, that will be taken up separately, by the proper people. Just give this slip to the cashier as you go out and your account will be credited accordingly.”
“Five hundred and thirty-two dollars,” says Poppy, looking at our new bank balance when we were in the street. “It isn’t going to be a cent too much. Do you know what seven hundred bushels of pickled cucumbers ought to bring?”
“How much?” says I.
“Anywhere from seven thousand to eight thousand dollars.”