"But look here, sir: don't you think if I came in here perhaps we could build up the business?" "No, I'm afraid not," Graham deprecated, pursing his lips and rubbing the white stubble of his beard with a toil-worn thumb. Duncan eyed him in bitter humour. "No, of course not. You're right--but somebody must have tipped you off." Graham paid little heed, whose mind was bent upon his own parlous circumstances. "I haven't got capital enough to stock up the store," he explained; "that's the real trouble. Folks have got into the habit of going to the other store because I'm out of so many things." "Well, to be sure," said Duncan, a little dashed; "you can't expect to do business unless you've got things to sell...." "I don't expect it, my boy," Sam assented dolefully. "'Twouldn't be in reason.... You see," he added, hope lightening his gloom, "I'm working on an invention of mine, and if that should work out I'd get some money and be able to get a fresh stock. Then I'd be glad to have you." Duncan brushed this impatiently aside. "How much business are you doing here now?" "Some days"--Graham reckoned it on his fingers--"I take in a dollar or two, and some days... nothing.... There's my sody fountain," he said with a jerk of a thumb toward it: "got that fixed up a little while ago, and it's bringing in a little. Not much. You see, I need more syrups. I've only got vanilly now." "Soda water!" Duncan jumped at the idea. "Hold on! All the girls round here drink soda, don't they?" "Oh, yes," said Graham abstractedly. The thought infused new life into the younger man's waning purpose. "Mr. Graham, I wish you'd let me come in here for a while. I don't care about wages." Graham lifted his shoulders resignedly. "Well, my boy, it don't seem right, but if you really want to work here for nothing, I'll be glad to have you; and if things look up with me, I'll be glad to pay you." Abruptly he found his hand grasped and pumped gratefully. "That's mighty good of you, Mr. Graham. When can I start?" "Why... whenever you like." In a twinkling Duncan's hat and gloves were off. "I'd like to, now," he said. "Where can we get more syrups?" "Unfortunately... I'll have to buy them." "How much?" Duncan's hand was in his pocket in an instant. "Oh, no, you mustn't do that." Sam backed away in alarm. "I couldn't allow it, my boy. It's good of you, but..." "Either," Nat told himself, "I'm asleep or someone's refusing to take money from me." He grinned cheerfully. "Oh, that's all right," he contended aloud. "I'll draw it down as soon as we begin to sell soda." He selected a bill from his slender store. "Will five dollars be enough?" "Oh, yes, but it wouldn't be right for me to--" But by this time Duncan was pressing the bill into his hand. "Nonsense!" he insisted. "How can we build up trade without syrup?" "But--but--" "And how can I learn the business without trade?" He closed Graham's unwilling fingers over the money and skipped away.