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Legal Guide for Starting Running a Small Business 9th
edition Fred S. Steingold Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Fred S. Steingold
ISBN(s): 9781413305135, 141330513X
Edition: 9
File Details: PDF, 1.85 MB
Year: 2006
Language: english
Ninth edition
Legal Guide
for Starting
& Running a
Small Business
by Attorney Fred S. Steingold
always up to date
The law changes, but Nolo is on top of it! We offer several
ways to make sure you and your Nolo products are up to date:
Updates @ Nolo.com
2 Check www.nolo.com/update to find recent changes
in the law that affect the current edition of your book.
Legal Guide
for Starting
& Running a
Small Business
by Attorney Fred S. Steingold
NINth Edition august 2006
Editors catherine caputo & Betsy Simmons
Book Design Terri Hearsh
Production margaret livingston
Proofreading paul tyler
Index patricia deminna
Cover Photography Tonya Perme (www.tonyaperme.com)
Printing consolidated printers, inc.
Steingold, Fred.
Legal guide for starting & running a small business / by Fred S. Steingold ; edited by
Ilona Bray. -- 9th ed.
p. cm.
Includes index.
ISBN 1-4133-0513-X (alk. paper)
1. Small business--Law and legislation--United States--Popular works. 2. Business
enterprises--Law and legislation--United States--Popular works. I. Bray, Ilona M., 1962-
II. Title. III.Title: Legal guide for starting and running a small business.
KF1659.Z9S76 2006
346.73'0652—dc22
2006046427
Copyright © 1992, 1995, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2001, 2003, 2005, and 2006 by Fred Steingold
All rights reserved. Printed in U.S.A.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the
prior written permission of the publisher and the author.
For information on bulk purchases or corporate premium sales, please contact the Special Sales
Department. For academic sales or textbook adoptions, ask for Academic Sales. Call 800-955-4775 or
write to Nolo, 950 Parker Street, Berkeley, CA 94710.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Nolo Publisher Jake Warner—the cheerful perfectionist whose ideas infuse
every page of this book—and to Nolo Editor Mary Randolph, who deftly whipped the early
manuscripts into final shape.
Thanks, too, to the rest of the remarkable Nolo family for their invaluable contributions—
especially Steve Elias, Robin Leonard, Barbara Hodovan, Jackie Mancuso, Tony Mancuso, Bar-
bara Kate Repa, Beth Laurence, Ilona Bray, Catherine Caputo, and Betsy Simmons.
In addition to the folks at Nolo, these other professionals generously shared their expertise to
make this book possible:
• Attorneys Charles Borgsdorf, Douglas Ellmann, Larry Ferguson, Sandra Hazlett, Peter Long,
Michael Malley, Robert Stevenson, Nancy Welber, and Warren Widmayer.
• Certified Public Accountants Mark Hartley and Lonnie Loy.
• Insurance Specialists James Libs, Mike Mansel, and Dave Tiedgen.
Finally, thanks to my small business clients, who are a constant source of knowledge and
inspiration.
Table of Contents
I Introduction
A. Is This Book for You?.....................................................................................2
B. How This Book Will Help.............................................................................3
C. Nonlegal Matters to Attend To.......................................................................5
3 Creating a Corporation
A. The Structure of a Corporation....................................................................58
B. Financing Your Corporation........................................................................61
C. Compensating Yourself................................................................................62
D. Do You Need a Lawyer to Incorporate?.......................................................63
E. Overview of Incorporation Procedures.......................................................63
F. Twelve Basic Steps to Incorporate...............................................................64
G. After You Incorporate..................................................................................73
H. Safe Business Practices for Your Corporation...............................................73
4 Creating a Limited Liability Company
A. Number of Members Required...................................................................80
B. Management of an LLC...............................................................................80
C. Financing an LLC........................................................................................81
D. Compensating Members.............................................................................83
E. Choosing a Name.......................................................................................84
F. Paperwork for Setting Up an LLC................................................................85
G. After You Form Your LLC.............................................................................89
H. Safe Business Practices for Your LLC...........................................................90
10 Buying a Business
A. Finding a Business to Buy.........................................................................171
B. What’s the Structure of the Business You Want to Buy?..............................172
C. Gathering Information About a Business...................................................176
D. Valuing the Business.................................................................................177
E. Other Items to Investigate.........................................................................180
F. Letter of Intent to Purchase.......................................................................182
G. The Sales Agreement.................................................................................184
H. The Closing .............................................................................................192
I. Selling a Business.....................................................................................193
14 Home-Based Business
A. Zoning Laws.............................................................................................254
B. Private Land Use Restrictions....................................................................259
C. Insurance..................................................................................................260
D. Deducting Expenses for Business Use of Your Home.................................261
Appendixes
A Checklist for Starting a Small Business.............. 431
Index
I
S
tarting and running a small business—one This book uses plain English to cover all the
that’s both profitable and emotionally satisfy- major legal issues that a business is likely to face,
ing—is a dream that you share with millions including:
of other Americans. Being an entrepreneur offers • Will I be personally liable for business debts?
rewards of many sorts: the opportunity to spread • How is business income taxed?
your wings and use your natural talents, the • Does it make sense for me to form a
freedom of being your own boss, the possibility corporation? How about an LLC?
of huge financial success, and more. And in an • How can I protect my business name?
era when job security is a relic of a bygone era, • Do I need a license or permit?
owning a business means you never have to worry • What forms do I need to file with the IRS?
about being fired or outsourced. • How do I raise money for my business?
Of course, nothing this exciting ever comes • What are the steps in buying an existing
without risk. Demographic changes, recessions, business?
changing tastes and styles, new technologies—any of • Is buying a franchise a good idea?
these factors can challenge even the most astute and • What kind of insurance should I carry?
experienced businessperson. There’s no guarantee • How do I negotiate a lease?
that any venture will succeed. But the positive side • Will zoning affect my home-based business?
of being self-employed often outweighs the potential • What’s the best way to avoid being sued by
risks. That’s especially true if you have confidence employees—or former employees?
in your own judgment and abilities. You stand to This book provides easy-to-follow answers to
earn more money than you ever have before—and these and dozens of other legal questions so that
to achieve a high level of self-fulfillment. In a Wall you can spend your time on what really counts:
Street Journal survey, 86% of small business owners running a sound and successful business.
said they’d do it all over again, and 76% said they
believe they’re better off financially than if they’d
worked for another company. A. Is This Book for You?
What’s more, the existence of risk doesn’t mean
This book focuses on starting and running a small
you’re helpless in the hands of the fates. You can
business. Though much of what you learn here will
greatly increase the chances of success by working
also apply to larger enterprises, this book definitely
hard and planning carefully. In particular, knowing
is not concerned with the sorts of businesses that
how the law affects your business can help you
get written up in Fortune Magazine. We’re focused
avoid many costly risks. More and more, the law
on readers who fit this profile:
affects every aspect of a small business operation,
• You’re looking to start (or buy) a small retail,
from relationships with landlords, customers, and
service, or manufacturing business—for
suppliers to dealings with governmental agencies
example, a restaurant or bakery, a dry
over taxes, licenses, and zoning. That’s where this
cleaning establishment, a crafts gallery,
book comes in.
an electrical contracting firm, or a modest
For starters, this book will help you take key
manufacturing operation.
preventive measures that will dramatically cut the
• You anticipate owning the business yourself,
number of expensive visits you’d otherwise make
or with one, two, or a handful of other
to a lawyer’s office. You’ll know exactly where you
people.
may be vulnerable to lawsuits so you can wisely
• You’d consider setting up a corporation
take steps to reduce the risks. And you’ll know
or LLC if doing so would be legally
when it makes sense to call in a lawyer or a tax pro
advantageous.
for special assistance so that small problems don’t
turn into huge ones.
introduction
• You plan to play an active role in running tips for using the entity to the maximum extent
the business—and perhaps even expect that possible to shield your home and other personal
it will provide your main source of income. assets from business creditors.
Does this sound like you? If it does, then this If you aren’t the only owner of your business,
book has exactly the information you need to take be sure to spend time with Chapter 5, which
the right legal steps and guard against lawsuits and explains how to lay the groundwork for ownership
other unexpected consequences. changes with what’s called a “buyout agreement”
(traditionally known as a “buy-sell agreement”).
B. How This Book Will Help 2. Choosing Your Business and Product
This book guides you through the many legal Names Wisely (Chapter 6)
concepts and procedures that affect a small You may already have a clever name for your
business. This section provides a preview of what business or product in mind. But don’t start using
lies ahead. it until you’re sure you won’t step on the toes of
Also, take a look at the Checklist for Starting a existing businesses. This chapter will explain how
Small Business that we’ve added as Appendix A. to research whether other businesses are using
The checklist lays out the steps to starting a small the names you’re considering, register and protect
business line by line. Tear it out of the back or the names you choose, obtain an Internet address
photocopy it, and use it to stay on top of your tasks (URL), and more.
and keep track of your progress.
D aniel Webster Jones, Jr., sauntered along the aisle, his trim
young body accommodating itself gracefully to the erratic
swaying of the day coach. I speak of Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., as
being trim, but you are not to picture him as slender. On the
contrary, without being fat, he had in his fourteen years and some
months of existence managed to cushion his frame with enough
flesh to give him a comfortably well-rounded appearance. It seemed
probable that later on the cushion would increase in depth and that
the term trim would no longer be applicable. In fact, Daniel Webster
Jones’s father—you saw his likeness on the cartoons holding his
justly celebrated Creamette Biscuits—was quite abundantly
upholstered. But at present, what with an easy and graceful carriage
and a careful attention to the niceties of attire, Daniel Webster
Jones, Jr., presented a most pleasing appearance. Under a straw hat
which was absolutely the latest cry in masculine fashions, the boy’s
copper-brown hair was brushed sleekly back from a well-shaped
forehead. Grayish blue eyes, a nose rather too button-like to be
called classical, a cherubic mouth, a nice, firm chin with a dimple in
it, all these features set in a round, healthy, rosy-cheeked face
combined to make Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., thoroughly attractive.
Yet it was, I think, the qualities of mind and character illumining the
ingenuous countenance that won folks to him. The gray-blue eyes
seemed veritable pools of truthfulness, the button-like nose
proclaimed uncompromising integrity, the cherub lips appeared
formed for the utterance of pure and beautiful thoughts, and when
Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., smiled, one felt oh, so glad that such
innocence and candor existed in a deceitful world!
The boy’s progress through the car was neither unnoticed nor
unheralded. Small and admiring juniors looked appealingly upward
and sought recognition with a wistful “How d’ye do, Jones,” while
upper-class fellows, rousing from the lethargy induced by a two-hour
journey on a hot September afternoon, observed his advent with
something of the same relief with which a traveler on the desert
might catch sight of an oasis and hailed him hopefully with a “Hi,
Jonesie!” But Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., merely nodded with just the
correct amount of superciliousness to the juniors—one had to keep
the kids in their place—and returned the greetings of the others with
preoccupied gravity. Oddly enough this had the effect of causing
smirks and winks and nudges amongst the older fellows and one felt
glad that Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., was unconscious of the levity.
One felt certain that it would have wounded him.
The car was filled almost to its capacity, yet here and there a seat
held but one occupant. At such a seat, near the front of the coach,
Jonesie—for after all why should we accord him the dignity of his full
title when no one else did?—Jonesie, then, paused indecisively and
caught the shy upward glance of the seat’s only occupant, a boy of
perhaps thirteen years of age.
“Mind if I sit here?” asked Jonesie most politely. “Sorry to bother
you, but everything’s pretty well filled up.”
“Not—not at all!” stammered the other boy. He tugged frantically
at a fat suitcase bearing the inscription “J. A. W.” on the end and
squeezed toward the window. Jonesie murmured his thanks and
seated himself with a sigh, folding his arms and staring ahead of him
with a thoughtful frown. The train swayed onward in a cloud of gray
dust. After a moment the original occupant of the seat took courage
and studied his neighbor out of the corners of his eyes. He liked
what he saw and wondered sympathetically what weighty care was
clouding the brow under the stunning straw. At that moment Jonesie
unclasped his arms and began to study a purple blister at the base
of the second finger on his right palm. The other boy, interested,
looked, too. It was a most promising blister. He speculated as to the
cause of it and considered its future treatment rather enviously. And
at that moment the proud possessor of the blister looked up and
caught his glance embarrassingly.
“Played thirty-six holes yesterday,” said Jonesie. “Hadn’t golfed
before all summer.” He frowned at the blister, wiggling his finger
experimentally. “Beastly bother,” he added disgustedly.
“Yes,” agreed the other, almost with enthusiasm. The sympathy
seemed to draw Jonesie’s attention to his companion for the first
time and he turned and shot a brief and speculative glance at him.
Then,
“Randall’s?” he inquired.
“Yes, I—I’m just entering.”
“Ah!” Jonesie beamed with a sudden friendly interest. “That’s fine.
Lower Middle, I suppose?”
“N-no, just Junior,” returned the other apologetically.
Jonesie nodded. “Should have thought you’d enter Lower Middle.
You look it.” The new boy flushed with pleasure at the implied tribute
to his age, wisdom and experience. “I’m in the Lower Middle myself,”
continued Jonesie, crossing one smartly clad leg over the other and
assuming an attitude promising confidential discourse. “Hope you
will like the school.”
“I—I think so, thank you,” murmured the other. “I don’t know
much about boarding schools, though. I suppose it will be—be sort
of strange at first.”
“Probably,” replied Jonesie sympathetically. “Of course a new boy
has quite a lot to learn, but you’ll get on to things after a bit. It isn’t
a bad school, Randall’s. I dare say you know some of the fellows?”
“No.” The other shook his head a trifle dejectedly. “I guess I don’t
know a soul there.”
Jonesie frowned. “That makes it harder,” he acknowledged. “But
you’ll find friends after a bit,” he added hopefully. “Sooner the better,
too, for there’s nothing like having an older fellow to—er—sort of
give you a hand over the rough places.” Jonesie regulated carefully
the expanse of violet and gray cuff showing beyond his coat sleeve.
“At least, that was my experience. Take the matter of athletics, for
instance—— But perhaps you don’t go in for that sort of thing?”
“Oh, yes!” replied the other eagerly, “that is, I hope to. I—I’m very
fond of football.”
“Fine game, football,” commended Jonesie. “And that’s a—er—a
case in point. Of course you’ll want to make the School Team; every
fellow does.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t expect to do that! Not the—the first year!”
“Why not? Fellows have done it. Don’t know why you shouldn’t if
you buckle down to it. I dare say I had a close shave from getting
on the School myself the first year. Unfortunately illness—er”—
Jonesie’s gaze wandered along the bell rope—“illness prevented.
Quite a blow to the Coach.”
“You—you are on the Team now?” asked the other eagerly.
Jonesie shook his head regretfully. “No, I never got into football
after that. Doctor’s orders. Perhaps next year—I’m so much better
——” He sighed and then smiled brightly, bravely. “Well, it doesn’t
matter, I guess.”
“Oh, but if you’re really fond of the game,” exclaimed the other
boy feelingly, “it must be—be an awful disappointment! I—I’m
sorry!”
“Thanks. Yes, of course it is a disappointment, but”—Jonesie
shrugged his shoulders—“life is full of disappointments and one soon
learns to—er—accept them philosophically. Now take your case—er
—— You didn’t tell me your name, did you?”
“No. It’s Wigman.”
“Mine’s Jones, D. W. Jones. Well, as I was saying, Wigman, take
your case. You may have to—to accept disappointment, too. You
see, there’ll be piles of fellows trying for the Team, and some of
them may show up as well as you will, although I will say”—and
here Jonesie turned to scrutinize Wigman carefully and approvingly
—“that from your looks you ought to have the making of a dandy
player.” Wigman flushed under the compliment. “But there you are!
Merit isn’t everything. You might play as well as another chap and
yet he’d get the call just because he had—er—friends to speak for
him. Do you see?”
“But—but that’s hardly fair, is it?” asked Wigman. “I thought
Randall’s was a school where you—where every fellow had the same
chance as every other fellow. I—I’ve heard so.”
“Sure! That’s so, to a certain extent. Still, you know yourself,
Wigman, that if you were captain of the Team—as you will be some
day, or I miss my guess!—you couldn’t help favoring the fellow you
knew, supposing he played as well as the other fellow, whom you
didn’t know. It’s human nature, isn’t it?”
Wigman allowed that it was.
“Of course! There you are, then! So what you want to do is to
make friends, Wigman; get acquainted right away and, if you can do
it, find a fellow who’s close to Bing.”
“Bing?” faltered Wigman.
“Yes, Carey Bingham. He’s captain this year. His chums call him
Bing for short. Nice chap, Bing. I’ve just been having a chat with him
in the smoker. Bing has a queer idea that I’m a judge of football
material. Maybe he isn’t so far wrong, either; I’ve picked more than
one green player and seen him develop into a wonder. And I don’t
believe I’ve picked a bad ’un yet. We were talking over this year’s
prospects. Bing’s inclined to be a bit discouraged and—er—
pessimistic, but I told him that to my mind we had as good an
outlook as ever we’d had. Quite cheered up, he was, when I left
him. Wanted me to stay and go over the schedule with him, but I
couldn’t stand the smoke any longer. Well, here’s the bridge. We’ll be
at Chester Hill in five minutes. I must get my things together. Awfully
glad to have met you, Wigman, and if there’s anything I can do for
you just let me know, will you?”
“Th—thank you,” said the other boy gratefully. “But I wouldn’t
think of bothering you.”
“No bother at all. Tell you what I’ll do, Wigman.” Jonesie drew
forth a silver card case, abstracted an oblong slip of thin cardboard
bearing his name and home address in ornate Old English letters
and scrawled a line on it with a silver pencil. “There’s where I hang
out—18 Hawthorne. Look me up as soon as you get settled or let me
know where to find you and I’ll drop in. Maybe I can put you on to
the ropes a bit, eh? Very glad to do anything I can for a new fellow.
Know what it means to be dumped down here with a couple of
hundred strangers. Makes you feel sort of lost and all that for a bit. I
know! Glad to have met you, Wigman. See you again soon, I hope.”
Jonesie smiled his best and sweetest smile, shook hands and
sauntered off, leaving James Andrew Wigman filled with gratitude
and admiration. Halfway along the aisle an imperious hand shot out
and seized on Jonesie. Jonesie, after a vain attempt to elude his
captor, faced him innocently.
“Hello, Carpenter,” he said sweetly. “How’s the boy?”
“What have you been up to, Jonesie?” inquired Carpenter, a big
Senior, sternly.
“Me?” Jonesie’s candid countenance expressed surprise. “Why,
nothing!”
“What kind of a yarn have you been stringing to that poor Fresh
down there?” persisted Carpenter.
“You make me tired! Can’t a fellow be decent to a new boy, I’d like
to know? I’ve been cheering him up a bit, that’s all. Found him
terribly down in the dumps, poor chap. You Upper Class fellows
never think of trying to make things a bit easier for new boys.”
Jonesie mingled regret with indignation. Carpenter blinked. “Seems
to me you fellows ought to remember how you felt yourselves when
you struck school and didn’t know anyone! It—it’s mighty lonesome
business, Carpenter!”
“Is that so, Jonesie? Well, you’d better write to the Weekly about
it. A fat lot of comforting you were doing, I’ll bet!” But after Jonesie
had gone on, Carpenter glanced inquiringly at Gus Peasley, who
occupied the seat with him. “Maybe Jonesie is right about it, too,”
said Carpenter. “I dare say it would be a decent thing if some of us
Upper Classmen sort of looked after the new boys a little. I
remember myself——”
“Piffle!” This was Peasley, grinning. “Jonesie doesn’t care a hang
whether a new boy is homesick! Bet you a dollar, Billy, he’s been up
to some more of his deviltry!”
“Think so?” asked Carpenter doubtfully. “Maybe. I wouldn’t trust
him. Just the same, Gus, there’s something in what he said.”
Peasley yawned as he got up to rescue his suitcase from the rack
above.
“Jonesie could talk tears out of a brick, Billy,” he replied. “He’s the
biggest little faker in school. Some day, if he doesn’t get hung first,
he’ll be President!”
II
T he Fall Term was three days old when James Andrew Wigman
availed himself of Jonesie’s invitation. Jonesie returned to his
room that afternoon in a condition of utter boredom. It had rained
all day, there was no promise of clearing, and Jonesie, unfortunately
susceptible to weather conditions, was as near having a case of the
blues as is possible for a healthy boy of fourteen. After slamming the
door and skimming his wet cap across the study in the general
direction of the window seat he thrust his hands into his trousers
pockets and stared disgustedly at his roommate. “Sparrow” Bowles,
deep in the pages of a paper-covered romance, never even turned
his head. Sparrow was fifteen, long, lank, dark-complexioned and
lazy. Fate had thrown them together at the commencement of their
Junior Year and Jonesie had never yet quite forgiven Fate. Finally,
discovering that his scowling regard was having no impression, he
observed challengingly:
“Crazy old bookworm!”
Sparrow looked up and blinked.
“What’s eating you?” he inquired.
Jonesie grunted and sank into a chair. “Find out,” he said affably.
Sparrow shrugged his narrow shoulders and turned back to his book.
Jonesie continued to glower upon him. At length:
“You’ll turn into a book some day,” he sneered.
“You’ll turn into a jug of vinegar some day,” replied the other,
without looking up. But the cleverness of the retort brought a smirk
to his face. Seeing it, Jonesie reached a foot forward and
dexterously sent the paper-covered volume hurtling across the room.
“Fresh!” he muttered.
Sparrow viewed him angrily through the round lenses of his
rubber-rimmed spectacles.
“You pick that up!” he demanded.
Jonesie smiled cheerfully. “Yes, I will!” he responded. But the tone
of voice rather contradicted the statement. Sparrow glared
indecisively from his companion to the book. Sparrow was not afraid
of Jonesie, but he was far too lazy to engage in combat unless
absolutely driven to it. Finally, with a shrug:
“It’ll stay there, then,” he said.
“For all of me,” agreed Jonesie.
Followed a silence. Sparrow blinked at the falling rain and the
dripping trees on the campus. Jonesie gazed speculatively at
Sparrow. But the scrap, as brief as it had been, had in a measure
relieved his feelings, and at the end of five minutes he asked:
“What do you know?”
Sparrow scowled and shrugged his shoulders again.
“I know you make me sick,” he answered ungraciously.
“You make me a heap sicker,” responded Jonesie. “Anyone been
in?”
“No—yes, there was a fellow in here half an hour ago asking for
you.”
“Who was he?”
“Search me.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing much. Left a note on the table, I think.”
“You think! Don’t you ever know anything?” Jonesie got up and
found the note. “It wouldn’t have hurt you a whole lot to have said
something about this when I came in, you lazy chump!” He glanced
at it and thrust it into a pocket. “It’s important, too,” he added
severely. “You’re a wonder, Sparrow!”
“I forgot it,” said Sparrow untroubledly. “What’s it about?”
“None of your business.” Jonesie rescued his cap from the floor,
borrowed Sparrow’s umbrella from the closet and hurried out.
“Come back with that brulla!” shouted Sparrow.
As this produced no result, he shrugged his shoulders, picked up
his book and started reading again.
The note was signed “James A. Wigman,” and informed Jonesie
that he was rooming at Mrs. Sproule’s on Center Street, adding that
if Jonesie had time to drop around he’d take it as a great favor. Now
Jonesie was not the least bit in the world interested in young Mr.
Wigman. He had scraped acquaintance with him on the train for no
other reason than he had exhausted all other means of
entertainment. It had amused him to impose upon the new boy with
an assumption of influence which he by no means possessed, and,
once started, it was Jonesie’s artistic temperament which had led
him to round off the incident with the presentation of a visiting card
and an avowal of friendly interest. To-day, had there been anything
else to occupy Jonesie’s talents, young Mr. Wigman’s appeal would
probably have gone forever unanswered. But Jonesie was bored and
a call on the new boy offered at least some slight variation of the
monotony of life.
Wigman had a room to himself at Sproule’s, a dormer-windowed
cell on the third floor. Pictures, rugs, pillows and knick-knacks had,
however, lent an air of comfort to the white-walled apartment, and
Jonesie, having been gratefully welcomed by Wigman and escorted
to the only comfortable chair, affably commended the quarters.
“It isn’t bad, is it?” asked Wigman. “I brought quite a lot of truck
from home.”
“One has to,” replied Jonesie. “Well, how’s it going, Wigman?”
“Very well so far, thank you. I haven’t got my courses quite
straightened out yet. I find I’ve got to take French or German, and I
didn’t expect that.”
“Yes, one of ’em’s required. You won’t mind ’em, though. Better
take French. I did. It’s more use to you. I discovered that abroad. If
you know French you can get around anywhere, even in Germany.
How are you getting on with football?”
“Why—why, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said
Wigman. “I went out Wednesday, of course. I suppose I got along
all right. They put me in D Squad. But I heard to-day that Mr. Cutler
is going to let some of the fellows go Monday.”
Jonesie nodded. “He would, you know.”
“Yes, and—I wondered——” Wigman hesitated and sought for the
right words. “I thought that perhaps, after what you said on the
train the other day, Jones, that perhaps you wouldn’t mind—that is—
wouldn’t mind—saying a word for me!”
“Hm,” mused Jonesie.
“Of course,” Wigman hastened to add, “I don’t want any favors,
you understand! And—and I don’t want you to do it if you’d rather
not, Jones. Only I thought—that if you just said a word to the
Captain he might give me a chance, you see; let me stay on a little
longer. I’m pretty sure I can make good, but I’m stale and I’m afraid
they’ll let me go Monday.”
“I see.” Jonesie considered thoughtfully. “Of course,” he went on
presently, “there’s always the Class Team to fall back on. You’d make
that, I guess, without much trouble.”
Wigman’s face fell. “Y-yes, but—but after what you said the other
day, Jones, I—I sort of want to make the School Team—or the
Second, anyway! You know you said first-year fellows had done it.”
“Did I? Yes, of course I did! Quite right, too. By the way, what
position are you trying for?”
“Quarter.”
“Gee!” murmured Jonesie. “That—er—complicates it, doesn’t it?”
In response to Wigman’s unspoken question he went on. “I mean
that there’s only one quarterback position to fill and so, of course,
it’s harder. You see that, eh? Now, if you were trying for end or
tackle or guard or half you’d stand just twice the chance. Still——”
“I’ve always played quarter,” said Wigman. “I suppose I might try
for half, though.”
“Well, there’s no hurry about that,” replied Jonesie. “I’ll speak to
Bing about you. Of course I can’t promise anything. Bing’s a most
conscientious chap and, while, of course, he’d do anything in reason
for me, he might—er—there might be some reason why he couldn’t
do this. There’s Cutler, for instance. Awfully opinionated cuss, that
Coach. Hard to work with. Bing says so himself. Still, you sit tight,
Wigman, and I’ll see what can be done.”
“Oh, thank you a thousand times, Jones!”
“Better not thank me until we see how it turns out,” warned
Jonesie. “I may fall down, you see.”
“Even if you do I—I’ll feel mighty grateful to you, just the same.
And—and I hope you don’t mind my asking you?”
“Not a bit! Glad to do anything I can, Wigman. What’s the good of
having influence if you don’t make use of it for your friends? I say,
that’s a peach of a racket you have!”
“Yes, it isn’t bad. I have another one over there.” Wigman took
down the Smith Special and handed it across for Jonesie’s
examination. “I haven’t used it but once or twice. It’s a little too
heavy for me, I find. I do better with the other one. Do you play?”
“Not very much. I’m fond of the game, though. Used to do fairly
well before the doctors butted in.”
“I forgot about that,” murmured Wigman sympathetically.
Jonesie weighed the racket in his hand, felt the grip of it, swung it
experimentally to and fro and tapped the mesh approvingly.
“Some racket that, Wigman. Don’t know when I’ve run across one
I liked as well. Thanks.” He handed it back. Wigman accepted it, but
did not return it to its place over the narrow mantel. Instead, he
swung it nervously back and forth behind him, opened his mouth,
closed it and exhibited all the signs of embarrassment. If Jonesie
saw he pretended not to. He picked his cap up and lounged across
to the bureau, bending over the row of photographs displayed.
“This your father, Wigman? Fine-looking chap, by Jove! You take
after him a lot, don’t you?”
“Do you think so?” asked Wigman in permissible surprise. “Folks
usually think I look a good deal more like my mother. That’s her
picture at the end there.”
Jonesie observed it critically, shot a look at Wigman and shook his
head.
“N-no, I don’t think so. Of course there’s a strong likeness there,
too, but it’s your dad you resemble most, I’d say. Well, I must be
getting along. Sorry I wasn’t in when you called, Wigman. Try again,
will you? I’d like you to meet my chum, Bowles. Fine fellow, Bowles.
A bit studious for a lazy duffer like me”—Jonesie’s smile made a joke
of that!—“but we get on first chop. Come over soon, Wigman. I wish
you would.”
“Thanks, I—I’d like to. And I’m ever so much obliged about this—
this other business. It’s frightfully decent of you, Jones!”
“Piffle,” answered Jonesie deprecatingly.
“It is, though,” Wigman went on earnestly. “And—and about this
thing.” He brought the racket back into view. “I never use it, Jones,
and I have another one, anyway; and it’s a lot too heavy for me,
besides. And so—so”—Wigman was making hard work of it,
stammering and blushing—“so I wish you’d take it, Jones!”
“Take it?” echoed Jonesie uncomprehendingly.
“As a gift, you know. I suppose it’s cheeky on my part, but——”
“My dear fellow!” Jonesie smiled sweetly, protestingly. “It’s
certainly fine and dandy of you, but I couldn’t think of it! Positively I
couldn’t, Wigman!”
“Well—of course——” The hand holding the racket fell limply. “I
wish you might, though.”
“It’s fine of you, but—er—hang it, Wigman, it looks almost like a
bribe!”
Wigman colored furiously. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. Honest I
didn’t, Jones! You—you believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do! I know better, but others might think—well, you
know what fellows are!”
“Yes, but they needn’t know, need they? I wouldn’t tell. You—
you’ve been so awfully kind to me, Jones, and I don’t know any
fellows yet, and—and I’d just like you to have it! It would be awfully
good of you if you would!”
Jonesie was affected by this appeal. He hesitated on the very
verge of another refusal. Wigman, seeing it, renewed his appeal.
“It isn’t as though I didn’t have another perfectly good one, Jones,
because I have. I do wish you would!”
“Why—why, if you put it that way,” murmured Jonesie, vacillating.
“But, I say, Wigman, it’s worth five or six dollars, you know!”
“Seven,” answered Wigman, “but that’s got nothing to do with it. I
—I’d just like you to have it. Won’t you, please?”
“Well, if you really want me to——” Jonesie hesitated still, but
Wigman thrust the racket into his hand. Jonesie, discovering it there,
viewed it with surprise. Then, “Thanks, Wigman, it’s awfully decent
of you, old man. I really haven’t done anything to deserve this, you
know, but I’ll accept it in—er—the spirit it is offered in. And, I say,
let’s have a set some day, will you?”
“I’d love to!” exclaimed Wigman.
“Good!” Jonesie changed the racket to the other hand and offered
the first to Wigman. “We’ll do it. Good luck, Wigman. Sit tight and
leave everything to me! So long!”
Swinging the racket appreciatively as he entered the campus,
Jonesie almost collided with a tall, broad-shouldered Upper
Classman.
“Hi, kid, look where you’re going,” ejaculated the latter good-
naturedly. Jonesie stepped out of the way into a puddle.
“Beg pardon, Bingham,” he said humbly.
III
Friend Jones:
I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. As
you probably saw by the notice they’ve kept me on
and to-day Captain Bingham put me into B Squad. He
was awfully nice, too. Told me I was doing well, and
that if I stuck to it and worked hard I’d make a good
quarter. Of course I knew it was all your doing, and so
I didn’t feel too stuck up about it. I’m terribly much
obliged and I hope some time I’ll have a chance to do
something for you. If the time ever comes I’ll do it like
a streak. I haven’t forgotten your invitation to call, and
I’m going to come over some evening if you don’t
mind.
Yours, etc.,
James A. Wigman.
A fortnight later all Randall’s was talking about the new football
find. His name was Wigman, he was a Junior, he was only
thirteen years old and he was turning out to be the finest little
quarterback in years! Why, only the other day he had taken Rice’s
place in the last two periods against Mercer High and driven the
team like a veteran! To say nothing of having himself scored on one
of the most daring and brilliant end runs ever seen on Randall’s
Field!
When Jonesie heard this he smiled superiorly. “I knew that a
month ago,” he said. “Wigman and I are old friends. In fact, it was
largely due to my—my encouragement that he held on and made
good. Had an idea when he got here that things went by favoritism
and was all for giving up right at the start. ‘Don’t you do it,’ I said to
him. ‘You peg along, old man, and show ’em what you can do. If
you’ve got the stuff in you Bingham and Cutler will pull you right
along. Why,’ said I, ‘a fellow who can play the way you can ought to
be Captain some day!’ My very words. You ask Wigman if you don’t
believe me.”
“But how did you know he could play?” inquired an incredulous
hearer. “Did you know him before he came up?”
“Never set eyes on him,” declared Jonesie truthfully, “but you can’t
fool me on football players. I can size ’em up just by looking at ’em.
And one little glance at Wigman was enough for yours truly. He
hasn’t surprised me any. I knew!”
Wigman had fulfilled his promise to call on Jonesie, but the latter
had been out. And as Jonesie had never returned the visit the
acquaintanceship had not flourished. Jonesie considered himself well
out of his difficulty and was fearful that Wigman might again request
him to use his influence with Captain Bingham. But, as it happened,
the new quarterback needed no one’s assistance. He was making
good on his own account, and by the time the Big Game was a
fortnight away it had become a question whether Rice, the last
year’s general, could retain his position. And that question was
solved a week later. In the game with Lakeshore School Wigman
started at quarter, and it was not until the game was safely “on ice”
in the fourth period that the disgruntled Rice succeeded to the
position. That, of course, was on the Saturday succeeding the final
contest of the year, and the next afternoon, while Jonesie was
chewing the end of his penholder and scowling at the Smith Special
for inspiration in the composition of his weekly missive, there was an
apologetic knock and in walked James Andrew Wigman.
Even Jonesie could not help but notice the change in the boy. He
seemed to have grown taller and broader and a lot more certain of
himself. Shaking hands, Jonesie was thankful that Sparrow was out
of the way, for Wigman’s countenance proclaimed that he had come
on weighty matters. “If,” said Jonesie to himself, “he wants me to
ask any more favors of Bingham I’ll just have to refuse. This thing’s
gone far enough!”
Wigman took a chair.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Jones,” he began soberly.
“Not at all,” murmured his host uneasily.
“I suppose you’ve heard that they’ve given me Rice’s place on the
School Team?”
Jonesie nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said.
“Well, of course it’s mighty hard on Rice. He’s an awfully fine
fellow and he had the place cinched until I—I butted in.”
“Fortunes of war,” said Jonesie.
“Maybe, and I wouldn’t care if—if I wasn’t afraid that I—well, had
sort of come by my good luck unfairly.”
“Eh?” ejaculated Jonesie.
“You know what I mean.”
“Can’t say I do, Wigman.”
“Well, you can’t deny, I suppose, that if it hadn’t been for you I
wouldn’t have got the chance to show what I could do. Because it’s
dollars to doughnuts, Jones, that Cutler meant to drop me the
second week of practice. You remember?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” answered the other hurriedly. “Still——”
“Well, that’s what’s bothering me. Sometimes I think I ought to
drop out and give Rice a fair show. I don’t mean that I got my place
by favoritism, exactly, but I guess there’s no use pretending that if it
wasn’t for your interceding for me with Bingham, Rice would still be
first-string quarter.”
“Hm,” said Jonesie judicially.
“And—and that brings me to another thing. Yesterday after the
game I got to thinking about all this and I thought I’d go to Bingham
and have a frank talk with him. So——”
“Good Lord!” groaned Jonesie.
“Pardon? I thought you spoke. So I did. I told him that I was
afraid it was scarcely fair to Rice and—and suggested that maybe I
ought to—to sort of drop out for this season.”
“What—what did he say?” asked Jonesie faintly.
“Why, that’s the funny part of it. He said he didn’t know anything
about it! At first he even pretended he didn’t know who you were!”
“Good Old Bing!” exclaimed Jonesie, slapping his leg and grinning.
“If that isn’t just like the boy!”
Wigman looked puzzled. “But he said——”
“Wait!” Jonesie held up a hand. “I’ll tell you just what he said,
Wigman. First off he pretended he didn’t know what you were
talking about. Didn’t he?” Wigman nodded. “Then he made believe
he didn’t know who I was. When you explained he said, ‘Oh,
Jonesie, you mean. Ha, ha!’ Just like that. Then he probably told you
straight out that I’d had nothing to do with the thing, that I’d never
mentioned your name to him and that, even if I had, it wouldn’t
have made a bit of difference. Didn’t he? Isn’t that about what
happened, Wigman?”
“Yes, pretty nearly exactly. And he said that the reason they’d put
me in place of Rice was because I was playing a better all-around
game and that nothing else had anything to do with it.”
“And there you are!” exclaimed Jonesie triumphantly.
“But—but why should he say he didn’t know you, Jones? He does,
of course, and you have spoken to him for me, haven’t you?”
Jonesie smiled wisely. “He says not, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but——”
“And he ought to know.” Jonesie winked meaningly. Vague
comprehension illumined Wigman’s countenance.
“Oh!” he said doubtfully. “You mean he doesn’t want to
acknowledge even to me——”
“Wigman, there’s a whole lot more politics in a school like this
than you dream of,” responded Jonesie gravely. “Bing has his reason.
Let it go at that. Don’t inquire too—er—closely.”
“Oh! Then you think——”
“Sure!”
“What?”
“Why, that you ought to take what you’ve got and ask no
questions,” said Jonesie promptly. “Get me?”
“But if they have—have been easier with me than with other
fellows——”
“It’s because you deserved it. Wigman, Cutler and Bing and I have
—er—done what was wisest and best for you and the School.
Remember, Wigman, there’s the School to think of, too. The greatest
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