“Readily--look here,” and Markham, taking the puzzle, deftly slipped the ring over all the obstacles, and then worked it back again into its original place. “I say, that is mighty clever,” declared Frank. “Show me slower, now. The slip over the triangle is the trick, eh? Good! Markham, that thing would sell like hot cakes.” “Think so?” asked Markham, seriously. “I certainly do. If I was started in the mail order business, I wouldn’t hesitate to illustrate and advertise it in my catalogue.” “Well,” said Markham, “that pleases me, for I can show in a small way my appreciation of all your kindness to me. Frank, I give it to you. If it’s worth patenting, all right. I know it’s original. It’s yours, freely.” “On royalty--yes,” answered Frank. “I’ll have some nicely finished models made when we get to Pleasantville. We’re getting to be great business men, aren’t we, Markham, talking about patents and royalties? How did you come to make the thing, anyhow?” “Oh, I was for--for a long time in a place where there was lots of wire,” explained Markham lamely. “I had too much leisure. It bored me. I had to find something to work at to kill time.” The old gloom that Frank did not like came into the boy’s face as he spoke. Frank drifted off into generalizations on his mail order dreams to lead his mind into more pleasant channels. There was a great confab at the supper table that evening. Frank told his mother all his plans in detail. She had too much confidence in his good judgment to oppose his wishes. “I will be glad to get anywhere away from a place where I have seen so much sorrow,” she said. “Besides that, the Haven boys and Bart Stirling and their friends are certainly good friends of yours. Has my son ever told you of the lives he saved at the great fire at the Pleasantville hotel?” Mrs. Ismond asked of Markham. “Oh, pshaw, mother,” said Frank--“don’t go to lionizing me, now.” His mother was fondly persistent, however, and Markham, with gleaming eyes, was soon reading a treasured newspaper clipping telling of Frank’s heroic exploit, as already related in detail in “Two Boy Publishers.” “That’s fine,” he exclaimed with enthusiasm, “and I’m proud to know your son, Mrs. Ismond.” The next day Frank wrote a report to Mr. Morton about the collections. He returned the unpaid bills with notations as to the condition of each claim, explaining that he was going to move to a distant town, and naming Mr. Buckner as a reliable man to follow up the collections. Frank saw their lawyer, Mr. Beach. The attorney stated that their suit against Dorsett would not be tried for over a year. He took Mrs. Ismond’s new address, and promised to look out for her interests. Then Frank arranged to sell off some of their furniture. It took two days to pack up the rest. Tuesday morning early all arrangements had been completed for their removal. They had engaged a freight car to carry their belongings to Pleasantville.