A week had passed by since the Lancaster man had settled up with Frank. It had been a busy, bustling week for the embryo young mail order merchant and his assistants. Frank had got his employees to sort out the myriad of needles into lots of twenty-four. He bought some little pay envelopes, and had printed on these: “Frank’s Mail Order House. Two Dozen Assorted Needles.” As said before, this was vacation time. There was scarcely a boy in Greenville who did not take a turn at selling the needle packages, which Frank wholesaled at six cents each. Most of the boys sold a few packages at home and to immediate neighbors, and then quit work. Others, however, made a regular business of it. Nelson Cady took in two partners, borrowed a light gig, and to date had met with signal success in covering other towns in the county. “Why,” he had declared enthusiastically to Frank only that evening, when he handed over the cash for two hundred new packages of the needles, which Mrs. Ismond was kept busy putting up, “if the needles hold out, I could extend and extend my travelling trips and work my way clear to Idaho.” “You are certainly making more than expenses,” said Frank encouragingly. “Yes, but you see”--with his usual seriousness explained Nelson, “that letter may come any day, and I want to be on hand to get it.” “Of course,” nodded Frank gravely, but he felt that poor Nelson’s hopes were like those of the man whose ship never came in. While his young assistants were thus earning good pocket money and Frank was accumulating more and more capital daily, he kept up a powerful thinking. A limitless field of endeavor seemed spread out before him. The handling of the salvage stock had been a positive education to him. “I see where the Riverton hardware man failed,” Frank said to himself many times, “and I think I know how I can succeed.” Frank packed up the contents of the zinc box in a satchel with a couple of clean collars, cuffs and handkerchiefs, and consulted a railway time-table. “If I take the train that goes through Greenville at three o’clock in the morning, mother,” he said, “I arrive at the city at exactly ten o’clock. Just the hour for business.” “Well, then, after supper you lay down and sleep till two o’clock. I will busy myself putting up some more of the needles,” suggested Mrs. Ismond. “I will have a little early morning lunch ready for you, and you can start off rested.” “Thank you,” said Frank warmly. “It’s worth working for such a mother as you.” Frank reached the deserted railway depot of Greenville in time for the train. Nearly everybody was dozing in the car he entered. He had a seat to himself, and plenty of time and opportunity for reflection.