“You bet it has,” confessed Pep. “Mr. Jolly is just as wild over it. I shouldn’t wonder if he was looking it over carefully the first thing this morning.”
“Very well,” said Frank, “we will all meet there say at eleven o’clock.”
Then Frank had gone on his way to report at the empty store half an hour earlier than he expected. He found his chums and Ben Jolly anxiously awaiting him. Vincent had remained with the horse and wagon at the barn.
There were some old chairs at the rear of the vacant building, and Mr. Morton invited them to make free use of them. It was quite a business conclave that grouped together while Frank told his story. It was clear and simple. Mrs. Carrington had instructed her attorney to advance up to one thousand dollars to Frank and his friends as needed.
“I insisted that we give the lady a bill of sale of all our belongings as security,” explained Frank. “The lawyer laughed at me. ‘You don’t know a good thing when you see it,’ he said. ‘Perhaps not,’ I told him; ‘but I know an honorable way to protect those who have confidence in me, as far as I can.’ Well, anyhow, I made him write out a memorandum of the whole transaction and signed a bill of sale. Was I going too fast in setting myself up as the one man of this very enterprising firm? I hope I did exactly right.”
And then followed the hearty sanction of Jolly and the boys to all Frank had done.
“I’m only a sort of drifter-in,” observed Jolly, “so what I say is only out of friendly interest. I would advise that just one of the firm take the responsibility, if he’s willing, on the lease and in all business dealings. It simplifies things, you see.”
“It’s got to be Frank, then,” spoke Randy.
“It will always be Frank,” echoed Pep. “He’s the brains of the business; isn’t he?”
“I don’t like the way you put it as to your being a drifter-in, as you call it, Mr. Jolly,” said Frank. “If it wasn’t for you I am afraid the Fairlands venture wouldn’t have amounted to much.”