"Have you got any money left?" demanded his friend.
"About a thou—" said Arnold. "And that's got to last me till next spring, you know."
"Blow it in—blow in every cent—it'll pay you. You can live through the winter somehow. How about transportation?"
"Got a nice electric dray—light and strong. Runs down hill with the load to tidewater, you see, and there's the old motorboat to take it down. Brings back supplies."
"Great!—It's simply great! Now, you save enough to eat till spring and give me the rest. Send me your stuff, all of it! and as soon as you get in a cent above expenses—send me that—I'll 'tend to the advertising!"
He did. He had only $800 to begin with. When the first profits began to come in he used them better; and as they rolled up he still spent them. Arnold began to feel anxious, to want to save money; but his friend replied: "You furnish the meal—I'll furnish the market!" And he did.
He began it in the subway in New York; that place of misery where eyes, ears, nose, and common self-respect are all offended, and even an advertisement is some relief.
"Hill" said the first hundred dollars, on a big blank space for a week.
"Mill" said the second. "Hill Mill Meal," said the third.
The fourth was more explicit.
"When tired of every cereal
Try our new material—
Hill Mill Meal."