Английский язык. Л. Ф. Мачнева
Text 6
It was in his thirteenth year that young Cowperwood entered into his first business transaction. Walking along Front Street one day he saw an auctioneer's flag before a grocery and from the interior came the auctioneer's voice: "What price am I offered for this exceptional lot of Java coffee?" The people offered their price. The coffee was quickly sold. At first Cowperwood had no intention to take part in the auction but after he had made a rapid calculation he thought he could make a profit.
"I am going to offer you now a fine lot of seven cases of Castile soap. At this moment this soap costs anywhere 11 dollars and 75 cents a case."
People began to offer their price. The original price was 15 dollars. Then the price reached 30 dollars. Cowperwood's mind was working hard. He took everything into account. Frank was sure he would get a profit, "that's why he decided to participate. When finally Cowperwood offered 32 dollars the auctioneer noticed him standing almost directly under his nose. The solidity of the boy's expression made a great impression on the man. Meanwhile young Cowperwood was thinking that he had no right to buy the soap as he had no money with him. But he was sure that his father who was a teller of the Third National Bank would lend him the money.
"32 – once! 32 – twice! Three times! The soap is sold to Mr…?" The auctioneer looked into the face of the boy.
"Frank Cowperwood, the son of the teller of the Third National Bank,' replied the boy. "Will you wait while I run up to the Bank and get the money?"
"Yes. Don't be long. If you are not here in an hour I'll sell it again."
Young Cowperwood made no reply. He hurried out and ran fast, but first to his mother's grocer.
When he entered the grocer's store he looked about for Castile soap. There it was, the same kind, displayed in a box and looking just as his soap looked.
Mr. Dalrymple, the owner of the store, though very much surprised, agreed to buy the soap offered by Cowperwood on condition that the boy would deliver the goods himself. Frank was sure there would be no difficulty in delivering the soap to the shop. At last they finalized the matter. Cowperwood was to deliver the soap to the shop and the grocer was to give him 62 dollars. So the question was settled to both parties' satisfaction.
Frank hurried out again and ran to his father's bank. The boy knew that his father wouldn't object to his plan.
"What's the trouble, Frank? What's the reason for your coming?" asked his father looking up from his desk when the boy appeared.
Frank explained the situation to him. He assured his father that it was a clear profit of 30 dollars and he would not do anything special. It was a good opportunity and he was not going to miss it.
Cowperwood senior, approved Frank's plan. Moreover it was not even necessary to instruct him how to act. This was the most business – like attitude he saw in his son. And Frank's father appreciated it very much. Frank was so bright and keen for a boy of 13. So the father counted out 32 dollars. Frank ran out of the building and returned to the auction premises as fast as his legs could carry him. He paid for the soap and it was not a problem for him to cover little transportation expenses.
In an hour he was before the door of Mr. Dalrymple's store with the soap. The owner paid for the goods and thought to himself it was most incredible for such a boy to be in business.
Since that transaction Frank Cowperwood decided to devote his life to business.
3.6.1 Vocabulary notes
to enter into a transaction – заключать сделку
to offer a price – предлагать цену
to take part in the auction – участвовать в аукционе
original price – первоначальная цена
to take into account – принимать во внимание, в расчет
to get a profit – получать прибыль
solidity – твердость
on condition that – при условии
to deliver goods – доставлять груз; поставлять товар
premises – помещение, здание, дом; недвижимость
to cover transportation expenses – покрывать транспортные расходы
to be in business – заниматься торговлей
3.7 Text 7
When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.
The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.
I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.
So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must consult the manager.
I went up to a wicket marked "Accountant." The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.
"Can I see the manager?" I said, and added solemnly, "alone." I don't know why I said "alone."
"Certainly," said the accountant and fetched him.
The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.
"Are you the manager?" I said. God knows I didn't doubt it. "Yes," he said.
"Can I see you," I asked, "alone?" I didn't want to say "alone" again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.
The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that 1 had an awful secret to reveal.
"Come in here," he said and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock.
"We are safe from interruption here," he said. "Sit down."
We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.
"You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume," he said. He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.
"No, not from Pinkerton's," I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency.
"To tell the truth," I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, "I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank."
The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild.
"A large account, I suppose," he said.
"Fairly large," I whispered. "I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly."
The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.
"Mr. Montgomery," he said loudly, "this gentleman is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning."
I rose.
A big iron door stood open at the side of the room. "Good morning," I said and stepped into the safe.
"Come out," said the manager coldly and showed me the other way.
I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick.
My face was ghastly pale.
"Here," I said,