Without delay Frank sat down and wrote a long letter to Philip Vincent, telling that gentleman of all that had occurred, and thanking him for the beautiful books he had forwarded. He added that he wished very much to try his luck at selling books, and asked if Mr. Vincent could make an opening for him. This communication he mailed before going to bed.

The next day Frank was busy helping his mother and Ruth around the house. The servant had been allowed to leave, for Mrs. Hardy did not wish to pay her wages any longer. As there was no school, Ruth could now help her mother a great deal, and did so willingly, and Georgie promised, if Frank went away, to keep the garden in order.

Nothing more had been heard of Jabez Garrison, and Mr. Hardy received word that he would ere long be called upon to make good the amount for which he had stood security.

“It’s hard to part with so much money,” said he to his wife. “But there seems no help for it.”

The crushed foot was mending slowly, but it was evident that it would be many days before the sufferer would be able to walk upon it once more.

“You will have to give it time,” said the physician. “If you do not you may be a cripple for life.” And a specialist who was called in gave the same advice.

Two days after mailing his letter, Frank received a reply from Philip Vincent. It was short and to the point. In it the book publisher said:

“I am perfectly willing to give you all the chance possible if you wish to make the trial. But let me remind you that you can only win out by doing your very best and sticking at it. It is bound to be more or less discouraging at the start. If you wish to take hold, come to New York soon, for I leave for Boston before long.”

“I like that letter,” was Mr. Hardy’s comment. “There is no nonsense about it. Some publishers would make an agent believe that all he had to do was to go out and coin money.”

“Can I go to New York to-morrow, father?” asked Frank, anxiously.

“If you wish.”

“Yes, I want to get at work just as soon as I can.”

“Very well. I will give you the necessary money.”

“It won’t be necessary, father,” answered Frank, with just a little pride. He had a few dollars of his own, which he had been a good while in saving.

“You will need money, Frank.”

“I have fourteen dollars.”

“You have? Where did you get so much?”

“I’ve been saving all I could for two or three years.”

“It is very creditable to you, Frank. I am proud of you. If you need more let me know. You may have to leave a deposit for the books you take out.”

“That is true, although I fancy Mr. Vincent will trust me.”

Frank’s preparations for leaving home were very simple. He did what he could around the house, and the next day he dressed himself in his best, and put his money in his pocket. There was a train for New York at eight o’clock, and he was at the station at least fifteen minutes before that time. He bought his ticket, and was the first to board the train when it arrived.

The ride was something of a novelty, for our hero had not been to the metropolis before. But he had studied a map of New York diligently, and he had little difficulty in finding Mr. Vincent’s place of business, which was located on Nassau Street.

“What can I do for you?” asked one of the clerks as he came forward.

“I would like to see Mr. Vincent,” replied Frank.

“He is busy just now.”

“Then I will wait.”

“Can’t I attend to the business?”

“I think not. I wrote to him, and he sent word for me to come and see him.”

“What name, please?”

“Frank Hardy.”

The clerk walked to an office in the rear and presently came back.

“Mr. Vincent will see you now,” he said, and showed Frank the way.

“Well, my young friend, I am glad to see you again,” said Philip Vincent, as he arose from in front of a large roller-top desk and shook hands. “Take a seat, and I’ll be at liberty in a few minutes.” And then he turned to his desk again and began to sign some letters.

During the wait Frank glanced around the office curiously. It was handsomely furnished, with drawings and engravings on the walls. In one corner, at a typewriter, a private secretary was at work.

“Now, then, I’m at liberty,” said Mr. Vincent, after five minutes had passed. “How have you been, and how is your father?”

“I’ve been well,” answered Frank, “and my father is doing as well as can be expected, so far as his foot is concerned. But he has had great misfortunes otherwise,” and our hero mentioned the Jabez Garrison loss and the fire.

“That certainly is hard luck,” said Philip Vincent, sympathetically. “He must be greatly worried.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that is why you want to try your luck at selling books?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve tried to get something else to do—I mean a regular situation—but I can’t find anything that will pay.”

“I see. Yes, regular positions on a stipulated salary are scarce.”

“I think I can sell books—anyway, I would like to try. I suppose you don’t object to employing boys.”

“Oh, no. A book sold by a boy will yield us as much profit as one sold by a man. But it requires talking, and I am afraid a boy could hardly set forth the merits of the works we offer to induce subscriptions.”

“I can talk pretty well,” said Frank, smiling.

“Yes; but can you talk to the point?” asked Mr. Vincent, shrewdly.

“After I have had a chance to examine the books and understand their strong points.”

“Yes; it is absolutely necessary to become acquainted with the works one wants to sell. I have a clerk who knows our books thoroughly. If you take hold, I’ll have him give you a regular lesson, and also give you a pamphlet I issue, called: Aids to Successful Book Selling.”

“I suppose you issue a great number of books for agents?”

“I have issued a great many during the past fourteen years. But at present I have only four books which I would advise you to try to handle. The first question is, do you want to work in the big cities or in small towns and country places?”

“What is the difference?”

“In the big cities you can take orders for very fine books at high prices. In country towns and villages you can sell good-looking books that are cheaper.”

“What would you advise me to do, Mr. Vincent?”

“I think you’ll make more of a success of it selling in small places first. After you have some experience you can try your luck in one of the big cities.”

This advice seemed sensible, and our hero determined to follow it.

“If I try my luck in smaller places what would you advise me to try to sell?”

“I have three works which usually appeal strongly to people in small places and in farming communities. One is a Guide to Health, a sort of family doctor book; another is a book on the diseases of all kinds of cattle and poultry, and the third is a set of thirty world-famous novels. The first two books sell at three dollars each, and are well worth it, for they are finely illustrated and contain much valuable information. The set of famous novels, which represent the best book of each of thirty famous novelists, sells for twenty dollars, four dollars when books are delivered, and two dollars per month until the entire amount is paid.”

“And what commission do you allow agents?”

“On the health book and the cattle book, twenty-five per cent., and on the famous novels, five dollars for each order which we accept and on which we obtain at least ten dollars.”

“Then you make an agent wait for his commission on the novels?”

“He has to wait for part of it. He can have two dollars of the commission as soon as we deliver the books and get our first payment.”

“Does an agent deliver the single books himself and collect?”

“Yes; we collect only on sets.”

“Do you think the center of New Jersey and eastern part of Pennsylvania good ground to work?”

“Very good, and you might try the interior of New York as well—if you stick at it long enough.”

“How many books would you advise my taking along?”

“Take one each of the health and cattle books, and one of the famous novels, with a list of the rest. When you take orders, get the folks to sign a regular order blank, stipulating when the books are to be delivered and paid for. Set the delivery so you can deliver books in a bunch. We can send them to you by express whenever and wherever you wish.”

“I understand.”

“We have some neat carrying cases for our agents, and I will lend you one of them, and also furnish you with the necessary pamphlets, describing the books, and also order blanks.”

“I will pay you for what books I take out, Mr. Vincent.”

“I don’t want you to do that. You can consider the books as samples and return them to me if you give up the work later. Usually I make an agent leave a deposit for the books and the case, but I feel I can trust you.”

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of the books and the case too.”

“Usually agents are also required to pay for books they order while on the road. I shall instruct my clerk to give you credit up to fifty dollars’ worth of goods, so you need not pay for books until after you deliver them and get your money. Of course, if you buy books and then cannot make folks take them you can return them to me at full value.”

“You are very kind, sir. I’ll do my best to sell books, Mr. Vincent, not only for my own sake, but also for yours.”

“I sincerely trust you succeed. But it is hard work, my young friend; remember that. When I first went to work I received more hard knocks than dollars.”

“Were you an agent?” questioned Frank, in amazement.

“Yes. I started twenty-six years ago, selling dictionaries and atlases, and wall maps. My whole capital was exactly seven dollars and a half.”

“You must have been what they call a hustler.”

“I was.” Philip Vincent smiled. “I worked about sixteen hours out of twenty-four, and I never lost a chance to sell a book or a map if I could help it. If I stopped at a hotel I did my best to sell the proprietor a map for his office, and if I was in a small town I would try to stop overnight at the home of a teacher or minister and sell him a dictionary or atlas.”

“And did you work from that to this great business?”

“I did. I earned almost every dollar myself. I was alone in the world, outside of an old aunt, who, when she died, left me exactly a hundred and ten dollars, and some old furniture that I sold for fifteen dollars.”

“You ought to be proud of your success.”

“I am proud, in a way. But you can do as well if you will only hustle. I can see that you are naturally bright, and have a winning way with you. A winning way counts for a great deal when selling books.”