"At Bixom's auction up here," he replied, frankly and blandly.

Mr. Dalrymple had the drayman bring in the soap; and after some
formality--because the agent in this case was a boy--made out his note
at thirty days and gave it to him.

Frank thanked him and pocketed the note. He decided to go back to his
father's bank and discount it, as he had seen others doing, thereby
paying his father back and getting his own profit in ready money. It
couldn't be done ordinarily on any day after business hours; but his
father would make an exception in his case.

He hurried back, whistling; and his father glanced up smiling when he
came in.

"Well, Frank, how'd you make out?" he asked.

"Here's a note at thirty days," he said, producing the paper Dalrymple
had given him. "Do you want to discount that for me? You can take your
thirty-two out of that."

His father examined it closely. "Sixty-two dollars!" he observed. "Mr.
Dalrymple! That's good paper! Yes, I can. It will cost you ten per
cent.," he added, jestingly. "Why don't you just hold it, though? I'll
let you have the thirty-two dollars until the end of the month."

"Oh, no," said his son, "you discount it and take your money. I may want
mine."