THE FINANCIER 
door of the astonished Mr. Dalrymple, and he had him 
come out and look at the boxes before attempting to 
remove them. His plan was to have them carried on to 
his own home if the operation for any reason failed 
to go through. Though it was his first great venture, 
he was now as cool as a cucumber. 
" Yes," said Mr. Dalrymple, scratching his gray head 
reflectively. He was a tall man, spare, stoop-shouldered, 
rather near-sighted, and wore steel-rimmed spectacles. 
" Yes, that's the same soap. IT take it. I'll be as good 
as my word. Where'd you get it, Frank?" 
"At Bixom's auction up here," the latter replied, 
frankly and blandly. 
It did not strike Mr. Dalrymple as so strange that this 
boy should attend an auction in his own neighborhood 
and buy soap cheaper than he could, but it was strange 
just the same. He had the drayman bring in the soap; 
and after some formality—more because the agent in 
this case was a boy than anything else—he made out his 
note at thirty days and gave it to him. 
Frank thanked him and pocketed the note. He de- 
cided to go back to his father's bank and discount it, as 
he had seen others doing, thereby paying his father back 
and getting his own profit in ready money. It couldn't 
be done ordinarily on any day after business hours; but his 
father would make an exception in his case. Most note- 
brokers kept open until nine o'clock at night in Third 
Street. 
He hurried back, whistling; and his father glanced up 
smiling when he came in. 
"Well, Frank,, how'd you make out?" he asked. 
"Here's a note at thirty days," he said, producing the 
paper Dalrymple had give him. "Do you want to dis- 
count that for me? You can take your thirty-two out 
of that." 
His father examined it closely. "Sixty-two dollars!" 
he observed. " Mr. Dalrymple! That's good paper! 
34