Long since the firm of Haven Bros. had risen to the dignity of occupying quarters right next to the _Eagle_, on the main street of the village. They had a lease of the old quarters, however. When Frank came again upon the scene a joint committee of his loyal friends had met in executive session to see what they could do to put him on his feet. This old structure stood back from the street, but had a pleasing lawn and flower beds on either side of the broad walk approaching it. The building was just off the principal Pleasantville thoroughfare. There were two large rooms on the lower floor and a spacious store room above. The Havens and Bart Stirling had fitted up one of the lower rooms as an office. Bob Haven had donated a desk and several chairs. His brother Darry had put in a table and a file cabinet. Bart had furnished a neat rug. That evening they had gone to the cottage which Mrs. Ismond had rented, and had led Frank over to this little surprise party, comprising themselves, Jim Dunlap, an old printer, and Baker Mills, also an employe of the _Herald_. Markham was somewhat reticent at first, but he soon warmed up in response to the free and hearty spirits surrounding him. He was immensely interested as the crowd began to chat on experiences. The story of how Bart Stirling had risen from a “sub” in a little express office to assistant manager of a large office, as already related in “The Young Express Agent,” was particularly fine to his way of thinking. The career of the Havens was quite as remarkable. They now ran the leading weekly newspaper in Pleasantville, and had a job printing business that employed two men besides themselves. Stet, the boy they had rescued from hard usage and extortion at the hands of their rival, Jasper Mackey, publisher of the Pleasantville _Eagle_, had become a valued fixture with them. Mrs. Haven, who furnished fashion plates for some city magazines, got up an original pen and ink sketch for the _Herald_ each week. The Haven boys were generally conceded to get out the most readable weekly newspaper in that section of the state. “I declare,” said Frank, with a grateful and a gratified look about the place, “you fellows have just about equipped me for business.” “Oh, not yet,” said Bob Haven. “My sister is away for a month, and I have arranged to loan you her typewriter till you can afford to get one of your own.” “Say,” broke in Markham, eagerly, “I’m just at home on that machine.” “Good for you,” approved Bob. “Then there’s a painter, here owes us a bill for printing he never could pay in cash. He’s painting a neat gold-lettered sign for the front of your place. ‘Frank’s Mail Order House.’” “Yes,” put in Darry, “and I’ve dug out of storage an upright showcase we took for a debt. It’s got twelve glass shelves. Set it up at the edge of the walk with samples of the various articles you are going to sell, and I’ll warrant many farmer groups coming to town will drop in to look around and invest.”