"Do it," urged Perner. "He'll be there some day if he keeps on drinking."

"How much advertising did we take, in all?" asked Van Dorn, presently.

Perner went somewhat into detail in his reply:

"Well, you see, we made the 'Sunday-School Union' a page instead of a half-page so we could get in the big cut of the Bible, and we took a half-page instead of a quarter in 'Boy's Own' so's to get in the gun and the camera, with a small cut of the watch. Then we took a page each in two school papers to get in the gun and Bible both, and the small cuts of the watch and camera. All these, of course, are in addition to what we had counted on before. It amounts to about thirteen hundred dollars in all."

There were some moments of silence after this statement. None of them had any superst.i.tion concerning this particular number of hundreds, and the amount was pitifully small compared to the figures they had used from time to time so recklessly in estimating their returns. For some unexplained reason, however, the sudden reality of the sum, and the dead certainty that this was not a mirage of champagne or a fancy of smoke, but a hard, cold fact that had to be met with money, caused the two listeners to have a cold, sinking sensation in stomachs that were none too full. Van Dorn was first to recover. He said with weak cheerfulness:

"Oh, well, it isn't a third what Frisby took, and he didn't have a dollar."

"Sure enough!" rejoiced Livingstone. "Lucky we don't have to pay it now though." There was another period of silence; then he added, "What time is it getting to be, Perny?"

As there was no immediate answer to this, Livingstone wheeled half-way around from his easel for the reply, and saw Perner studying somewhat solemnly the dial of one of the fat "Whole Family" watches. Perner usually carried a rather elegant gold time-piece, a memory of his business career, and the only one in the party. Livingstone was about to comment on its absence, but was restrained by a sudden delicacy.

Perner's watch might be out for repairs, or he might be wearing this ridiculous affair out of loyalty to the paper; but these were troublous times, and there was the possibility of still another solution of the matter.

"Five o'clock," decided Perner, at last, "lacking four minutes. I suppose I'm through with the leeches for to-day."

The words were barely uttered when the door opened and a boy entered with bills in one hand and a letter in the other.

"I spoke a little too soon, it seems," Perner concluded, taking the envelop which the boy had extended uncertainly toward each of them in turn.

The envelop contained a brief communication--also a bill. Perner held the latter in his hand while he ran his eye hastily over the former.

Then he glanced at the amount of the bill, and Van Dorn, who was watching him, saw that he was rather white. He turned to the boy quite carelessly, however.

"You may leave these. We will attend to them to-morrow." Then, as the collector vanished, he looked up at Van Dorn with, "It's the bill for the advertising. We are to pay before it goes in."

Van Dorn half rose to his feet. Livingstone gasped.

"Listen," said Perner, and he read the letter to them:

"OFFICE OF JACKSON & MARSH, ETC.

"NEW YORK, September 2, 1897.

"_Publishers of the 'Whole Family,' New York._

"GENTLEMEN: We hand you herewith net bill of your advertising, cash discount being taken off as per your instructions through Mr. Bates. Upon receipt of your check for the amount we will give our final O. K. to the various periodicals, most of which are now ready for the press. With thanks for your order, we ask, therefore, that you kindly be very prompt, and greatly oblige,

"Yours, etc., "JACKSON & MARSH.

"Per C."

Perner looked up from the letter at Van Dorn. The artist regarded him a full minute in silence. Then he said huskily:

"Don't that beat h.e.l.l?"

"It does," groaned Livingstone. "Bully for Bates!"

XIV

A LETTER FROM MR. TRUMAN LIVINGSTONE OF NEW YORK TO MISS DOROTHY CASTLE OF CLEVELAND

"MY DEAREST DORRY: I have not written to you as promptly as usual, because there have been other things that had to be attended to a good deal _more_ promptly, and there was an uncertainty about everything lately that made whatever I might say to you more or less guesswork. I mean about the paper. It seems that 'cash terms' doesn't mean when the advertising is out, after all, but _before it goes in_, and this misunderstanding made matters about as lively as anything you can imagine in the financial department of the 'Whole Family' office for a day or two. I think Bates was mostly to blame, but we couldn't say anything to him because it would expose the weakness of our capital; and then, we _did_ tell him that we wanted to pay cash, though I am sure he knew we understood that that meant to pay as Frisby did--when advertising came out.

"However, we got through with it. We thought at first we'd have to capitalize, but Barry sold a small piece of property he had somewhere, and the rest of us skirmished about where we could. I did not let you know, because I have made up my mind to go through with this as I began, whatever happens.

It can't take a great deal more now until it begins to come our way, and what you have said about sticking it out is the right thing, and I mean to follow it to the letter. With your money, however, it is different. That is just your own, and as for having an interest in the paper, if I stay by it, as I mean to, and get through safely, as I'm sure I can, you will have that anyway. We are going right ahead now with matter and pictures for the second and third issues, and if it were not for the salaries and rent and incidentals we could feel pretty easy, for Barry says he is sure we can get 'the first round of the first issue' from 'the man who stands with his sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on the prehistoric towel while he talks,' without the money down.

"That, of course, will be all we need, for as soon as the first few thousand papers are out there will be plenty of money coming in for everything. Then we can take it easier, and, as you say, Dorry, it is worth putting up with a good deal to be able to have means for everything afterward. We all appreciate that, now, and Perny says he is looking forward to the day when he can have some other kind of dessert besides hard-baked, barber-pole ice-cream, which is what they give us at the little table-d'hote place where we have been eating dinner lately.

"The Colonel is as good-natured and jolly as ever. He poses for me whenever I want him to, and allows me to lend him a dollar now and then, which I am sure comes in handy, for the money he is expecting hasn't come yet. We give him a little salary now, too, though we had to insist on his taking it.

But he is enthusiastic and a great help, and deserves it. He is getting the circulation books ready, and has bought himself some new clothes, though, fortunately for my picture, he doesn't always wear them.

"I am still working on it a little every day, and have been down to the 'line' one or two evenings. For some reason, however, the work doesn't seem to have quite the feeling the first sketch had--I mean quite the feeling of forlornness and dest.i.tution. Van says it's because I've seen the 'line'

lately in warm weather, when the men are only hungry and not cold. That must be so, I think, and I am not going to finish it entirely until it gets cold again, so I can get back all that wretchedness we saw on last New Year's eve. Perhaps that sounds cruel to you, but it is the artist's way to make capital out of the emotions of others, and anyhow, dear, this isn't like 'Prometheus Bound,' that we used to read at school, for it does n.o.body any harm and may even do good.

"It's likely to be cold and bitter almost any time after the 1st of October, but it ought to be very cold,--I mean in the picture,--and there should be snow or sleet. I think sleet would be better--a driving, stinging sleet, and a deadly hard look on the pavement where the light reflects. There is something in the way a man crouches and shrinks from sleet that you never quite get any other way. Of course, I don't want it to sleet on those poor fellows, but I know it will, and when it does I must be there to see it.

"You see, the boys think this is the best thing I have done, and I can't afford to fail on it at the end, though I'd like to have it all done by Christmas, and it may not sleet before January, or even then. But I'm not going to worry over it,--think about it, I mean,--for, as I said, I wouldn't really want it to be very cold and sleet at all, if I could help it, only I know I can't.

"How good and n.o.ble you are, Dorry! When I think about your not having gone away this summer on my account, it makes me ashamed of myself, for really we have had a jolly time here in town. Van says that even if we never get anything else out of the paper, we have had a million dollars' worth of fun, and it's about so. I am sorry I have ever seemed discouraged or out of patience with things, for it made you have a lot of sympathy with me, and though I liked it, of course, and wanted it, I knew I didn't deserve it at all.

"I am glad, though, that the struggle will be over now in a few days. Our first advertising--the 'cash for names'--comes out on the 15th, and the rest--the premium offers--about the 25th. Also in our own sample copies. So you see, before the 1st of October the wheels will be turning very fast. Of course, we may not have quite the great rush we expect, but even if only half it will be enough.

"Good-by, sweetheart. I wish we might be together these beautiful September days. The parks are fine now in the early morning. Next year we will get up and walk out in them together.

"With all my heart,

"TRUE."

XV

FINAL STRAWS

One morning when the busy writer and two artists who lived and toiled together in apartments near Union Square--now the offices of the "Whole Family"--returned to them after a light and wholesome breakfast, they found their stairway full of girls--girls of almost every age and apparently of almost every station in life. There were tall girls, short girls, slender girls, stout girls, girls of every complexion and every manner of dress. Also, more girls were constantly coming and pressing their way into the hall. The friends stood aghast.

Van Dorn swore under his breath.

"What is it?" whispered Livingstone, fearfully. "What have we done now?"

A flicker of light flitted across Perner's face.