# Bound to Succeed/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
SENSE AND SYSTEM
Frank was up and stirring before six o'clock the next morning. He felt like a person beginning life brand-new again.
When his mother appeared half-an-hour later, she found everything tidied up, including Frank himself, who hurried through a good, hearty breakfast with an important business engagement in view.
"You will excuse me for calling at your home instead of the office," said Frank to Mr. Buckner, a little later.
"That's all right, Frank," declared the insurance man, shaking hands heartily with his early caller. "Time is money, and of course you want to utilize it to the best advantage. Well, what's the news?"
Frank recited the progress of the day previous. When he came to tell of the sale of the old junk at Riverton, his host laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
​"You'll do, Frank," he observed with enthusiasm—"decidedly, you'll do! You got the moving done at just half what I expected to pay, and collected twenty dollars and a half we never knew a word about."
"Then you want me to go on getting the burned stuff in order, do you?" inquired Frank.
"Certainly—that was all understood, wasn't it? I'll try and drop around to-day or to-morrow and take a look at the plunder, just out of curiosity. As to getting it in shape for my client's inspection, I leave that in your able charge exclusively."
"Thank you," said Frank.
Nelson Cady was piping a cheery whistle in front of the store when Frank got home.
"Got no letter yet," he announced in his old important way, "so I reckon I can give you a lift, Frank."
"Good for you," commended Frank. "You know how to work all right when you want to, Nelson."
Frank unlocked the store door with a proud sense of proprietorship. Both entered the long, rambling room.
"Now then. Nelson," said Frank, "I offer you ten cents an hour, and make you superintendent of the little plant here."
​"What am I expected to superintend?" asked Nelson.
"Did you notify any of the boys?"
"Oh, yes—I could get an army of them, if needed."
"I think about half-a-dozen will answer," said Frank.
"They'll be here shortly all right," responded Nelson. "It's vacation, and—there's the first arrival now."
A curly-pated, eager-faced little urchin popped in through the open doorway.
"Hey, Nelse, am I early enough?" he asked anxiously.
"Five cents an hour," announced Frank, with a welcoming smile.
"Oh, my!" cried the little fellow—"five times twenty-four is, let me see—a naught and two to carry, a dollar and twenty cents. Whoop!"
"Here, here, you don't suppose we're going to work all day and all night, too, do you?" said Nelson. "Eight hours will tire you out soon enough.
"Forty cents a day, then," cried the little fellow. "Say, I'll be rich!"
Within the next ten minutes as many as a dozen ​other boys arrived. The news of Frank Newton having work to be done, had spread like wildfire among juvenile Greenville. All hands begged for employment, but Frank could not hire all of them. He engaged first boys whose families needed help, and promised the others they should work as substitutes when any of the original employes dropped out of the ranks.
"Now then, friends," said Frank, as soon as the hiring business was disposed of, "Nelson Cady will direct what you are to do. You had better all of you go home first and put on the oldest duds you can find, for this is going to be dirty work. Look here, Nelson."
Frank had got a big piece of chalk at a carpenter's shop on his way home from the Interview with Mr. Buckner. With this he now divided the floor space of one whole side of the store into sections about six feet square.
"You see, Nelson," he said to his superintendent, "first you tip over one of those big packing cases onto the floor."
"All right, Frank."
"Then begin picking out an article at a time. Suppose it is a hammer comes first: write with ​chalk on the edge of a section 'Hammers,' and then group all the hammers you find by themselves."
"I understand," nodded Nelson.
"Label all the squares plainly. Mass everything of its class in distinct heaps. That is the first start in your work."
Frank had some of his regular village chores to do. He was gone over an hour attending to various duties.
As he came back to the store again, Frank was spurred up by the busy hum of industry. Half-a-dozen urchins peering enviously in at the open front door made way for him. He gave them a kind word and stepped Inside to take a sweeping view of his juvenile working force.
A great rattlety-bang was going on as the boys pulled over the heap of debris. Hands and faces were grimed. There were some blistered fingers, but the boys were working like bees in a hive.
The chalked-off sections had begun to grow In number. One was labelled "Needles." Frank stared in some wonder. There were papers of needles whole, and others wth half their original paper coverings burned away, of loose needles, some rusted and blackened, some still bright and ​shining; there seemed to be thousands upon thousands.
Then there was a lot of pieces of lawn mowers, blades, wheels, screws, cogs and axles. Hinges of all sizes and qualities showed up prominently. Pocket knives, scissors and carpenter tools were likewise greatly in evidence.
One pile was growing rapidly with the minutes. This was a heap of apple corers. It was a contrivance with a small wooden knob. A screw held a tapering piece of thin metal, which penetrated the centre of an apple. Then a twist was supposed to cut out the core.
From letters in the zinc box which Frank had read, he knew that purchasers of this device had complained about it greatly. In the first place it was arbitrarily set for one uniform cut. No matter whether the apple to be operated on was large or small, the hole made was exactly the same. If the fruit was hard and crisp, according to the letters of complaint the corer split the apple. If it was soft, the corer mushed the apple. There were already sorted out several hundreds of these corers. Frank wished he could get hold of them and improve them.
Frank looked over all the selected stuff in view. ​Then he went in turn to the village blacksmith, the local hardware store and to a druggist friend. He returned with some sponges, soft rags, sandpaper and a can of oil. He chalked off new spaces at the rear end of the store, three being devoted to each article labelled. Then he ordered his helpers to grade the various utensils dug out of the debris. Thus, hammers: those burned beyond practical use were put in heap one, second best, heap two; those that were only slightly marred were placed in heap three.
When Mr. Buckner came to the store the following day at noon the work had progressed famously. The insurance man was greatly gratified at the layout.
"Sense and system," he said, and told Frank he was proud of him.
Certainly Frank had proceeded on a routine that was bound to bring good results. What he called the finished product was now strongly in evidence. He had divided his working force. Five of the small boys helped him in getting all the salable stuff sorted by itself.
Mr. Buckner's client did not put in an appearance until the following Tuesday. By that time the place looked more like a real hardware store than a repairing shop.
​All the best stuff was classified and neatly laid out. The hardware man from Lancaster made one sweeping inspection of the various piles of merchandise. There was quite a delighted expression on his face as he turned to Frank.
"Young man," he said, "Mr. Buckner prepared me to meet a brisk, enterprising fellow of about your size, but the way you have handled this business is a marvel."
Frank flushed with pleasure.
"Right at the start," continued his visitor, "I offer you a good, permanent position in my store at Lancaster at eight dollars a week."
"I thank you greatly," replied Frank, " but I have partly decided on some other plans with my mother."
"All right. If you change your mind, come to me. Now then, to size up this proposition in detail."
The speaker looked into and over everything. When he had gone one round he picked up an empty red cardboard box and began to cut it up into small squares.
"I seem to have made a fine investment, Buckner," he said to the insurance man. "There's over two hundred dollars in those lawn mower parts alone. The regular stuff like tools and ​cutlery are good for as much more. See here, Newton: I am going to put one of these red cardboard squares on all the lots I wish you to ship to me at Lancaster."
"Yes, sir," nodded Frank.
"Get some strong boxes and pack the stuff well, send by freight."
The hardware merchant now went from pile to pile, placing the red bits of cardboard on about two-thirds of the stuff.
"Aren't you going to take those needles?" inquired Buckner, noticing that his client had passed them by. "Why, there's fully a million of them."
"No use for them."
"And this big pile of apple corers?"
The hardware man shrugged his shoulders.
"No," he said plumply. "They busted Morton. If he couldn't make them go, I can't."
"And those other heaps of second-best stuff?" inquired Frank. "I should think they would sell for something."
"And spoil the sale of good-profit goods. No, no. That's poor business policy. I shall make double good as it is. Just dump the balance into some junk shop. Whatever you get for it you can keep, Newton."
"Oh, sir," interrupted Frank quickly, "you ​hardly estimate the real value there. Why, anyone taking the trouble to put those needles up into packages could clean up a good many dollars. There's a lot of sewing machine needles there, too. They are worth three for five cents anywhere."
"All right," retorted his employer with an expansive smile. "You do it, Newton, I won't. Take the stuff with my compliments, and thank you in the bargain for all the pains you have gone to in turning me out a first-class job."
"Takes your breath away, does it, Frank?" said Buckner, with a friendly nudge. "It will give you some interesting dabbling to do for quite a time to come, eh?"
"Yes, indeed," murmured Frank, his eyes shining bright with pleasure. He was fairly overcome at the unexpected donation. He seized the hardware man's hand and shook it fervently. "Sir," he said gratefully, "I feel that you have given me my start in life."
"Have I?" laughed his employer lightly. "Glad. Well, the matter's settled," he continued, consulting his watch—"I must catch my train."
"One little matter, please," said Frank, advancing to the zinc box and throwing back its cover.
He rapidly described what it contained, ​including the lists of names and the mail order routing cards.
The hardware man listened in a bored, impatient way.
"Don't want any of the truck," he said. "Burn it up, do what you want with it. Get that freight on to me quick as you can, Newton. Buckner here will settle your bill for services. Goodbye."
Frank Newton stood like one in a dream after his visitors had departed.
A great wave of hope, ambition, the grandest anticipations filled his mind.
"Mine!" he said, passing slowly from heap to heap consigned to him as a free gift. "Mine," he repeated, his hand resting on the zinc box. "At least fifty dollars in cash out of the work I have done, and the basis of a regular business in what that man has given me. Oh, what a royal start!"