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"I wouldn't send in any orders yet," advised Johnny. "Wait till you see how the trade holds up." Each night Johnny and Keogh sowed the crop that grew dollars by day. At the end of ten days two-thirds of the stock of shoes had been sold; and the stock of cockleburrs was exhausted. Johnny cabled to Pink Dawson for another 500 pounds, paying twenty cents per pound as before. Mr.
The Lotus and the Cockleburrs, "O. Henry." Two Bites at a Cherry, Thomas Bailey Aldrich. The Notary of Perigueux, Henry W. Longfellow. "Yes," said the dealer, "our windfalls are of various kinds. Some customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior knowledge.
The result of his application was the following message, which he signed and had transmitted at a cost of $33: TO PINKNEY DAWSON, Dalesburg, Ala. Draft for $100 comes to you next mail. Ship me immediately 500 pounds stiff, dry cockleburrs. New use here in arts. Market price twenty cents pound. Further orders likely. Rush.
When the second invoice of cockleburrs arrived Johnny loaded them and the remainder of the shoes into a schooner, and sailed down the coast to Alazan. There, in the same dark and diabolical manner, he repeated his success; and came back with a bag of money and not so much as a shoestring.
"Johnny never would stick to anything long enough to succeed. I wonder how he manages to run his business here, and never be 'round to look after it." "I'm looking after the business just now," admitted the pro tem. consul. "Are you then, say! where's the factory?" "What factory?" asked Keogh, with a mildly polite interest. "Why, the factory where they use them cockleburrs.
Johnny's influence with the custom-house people was sufficiently strong for him to get the goods turned over to him without the usual inspection. He had the bale taken to the consulate and snugly stowed in the back room. That night he ripped open a corner of it and took out a handful of the cockleburrs.
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