Chapter III

           ItwasinhisthirteenthyearthatyoungCowperwoodenteredintohisfirstbusinessventure.WalkingalongFrontStreetoneday,astreetofimportingandwholesaleestablishments,hesawanauctioneer’sflaghangingoutbeforeawholesalegroceryandfromtheinteriorcametheauctioneer’svoice:"WhatamIbidforthisexceptionallotofJavacoffee,twenty-twobagsalltold,whichisnowsellinginthemarketforsevendollarsandthirty-twocentsabagwholesale?WhatamIbid?WhatamIbid?Thewholelotmustgoasone.WhatamIbid?"

           "Eighteendollars,"suggestedatraderstandingnearthedoor,moretostartthebiddingthananythingelse.Frankpaused.

           "Twenty-two!"calledanother.

           "Thirty!"athird."Thirty-five!"afourth,andsouptoseventy-five,lessthanhalfofwhatitwasworth.

           "I’mbidseventy-five!I’mbidseventy-five!"calledtheauctioneer,loudly."Anyotheroffers?Goingonceatseventy-five;amIofferedeighty?Goingtwiceatseventy-five,and"—hepaused,onehandraiseddramatically.Thenhebroughtitdownwithaslapinthepalmoftheother—"soldtoMr.SilasGregoryforseventy-five.Makeanoteofthat,Jerry,"hecalledtohisred-haired,freckle-facedclerkbesidehim.Thenheturnedtoanotherlotofgrocerystaplesthistimestarch,elevenbarrelsofit.

           YoungCowperwoodwasmakingarapidcalculation.

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