"'No, I guess I don't want any gloves.'
"'Well, I've my goods all here and it'll be no trouble to show them to you,' I said.
"'Nope,' said he, and then started to write another letter.
"When he finished that one, I said: 'Now, I don't like to insist but as my goods are all here it won't do any harm to look at them.'
"With this the old man turned on me and said:
"'Looker here, young man, I've told you twict that I don't want to buy any of your goods. Now, you just get them in your grip and get them out of here right quick; if you don't I'll throw them out and you with them.'
"Well, the old duffer was a little bigger than I was, and I didn't want to get into any trouble with him; not that I cared anything about having a scrap with him, but I thought that the firm wouldn't like it, and if they got onto me they'd fire me. So, without saying a word, I began to pack my goods together.
"About that time a customer came in who wanted to buy a pair of shoes. Some of my samples were still on the counter near the shoe shelves. The old man, with a sweep of his hand, just cleaned the counter of my samples and there I was, picking them up off the floor and putting them into my grip. I felt like hitting him over the head with a nail puller but I buckled up the straps and started sliding the grip along,—it was so infernally heavy—to the front door.
"Before I got to the front door, he came up and took the grip out of my hand and piled it out on the sidewalk and gave me a shove. Then he went back to show the customer the pair of shoes.
"I was just a boy then—was just nineteen—and this was the first man
I'd called on.