"The grocer has sold his'n," he lugubriously lamented; "thar ain't no one else as wants a caretaker for their critters around here."
After a long rumination on the discouraging problem of his future, he sought his confessor, the corner grocer.
"I'm too big to peddle papers or be runnin' about with telergrafs," he declared. "I'd orter be goin' into business on my own account. I ain't goin' ter be allers workin' fer other folks."
"Well, you'll have to wait a while before you can work for yourself," counselled his confidant. "You are young yet."
"This is a hurry-up age," was the sagacious assertion, "and ef you air agoin' to git any-whar, you've got ter go by wire instead of by mail, and you can't start too soon."
"You can't start nothing without capital," argued the grocer conservatively.
"Oh," admitted the young financier, "a little capital mebby. I've got a dollar I've saved up from odd jobs."
"What line was you thinking of taking up?"
"I'm going into the dairy business. Thar's money in milk and butter, and it's nice, clean work."
"The dairy business on one dollar! How many cows and wagons and horses was you figuring on buying with your dollar?"