"No, I tell you."
"Oh, all right," responded Dan Pickley, and he pursed his lips. He was about to say more, but suddenly changed his mind.
Somewhat perplexed by Pickley's strange manner, the boy continued on his way, and a few minutes later found himself in the thriving town for which he had been bound.
Ralph had no definite place in view. But he knew that the best thing to do was to seek employment systematically. He resolved to walk to the extreme end of the town and apply at every store and factory that presented itself.
"Then, if there is any vacancy at all, I am bound to locate it," he said to himself.
His first visit was paid to a large shoe factory, located directly by the lakeside.
"I am looking for a place," he began to the foreman, when that individual waved him away and pointed to a sign over the door, which the boy had not seen, and which read:
"No More Hands Wanted."
"Excuse me, but I did not see the sign," said Ralph, politely, and walked off.
After this came another shoe factory, at which the boy fared no better; indeed, he fared worse, for the foreman, a burly Irishman, ordered him out very rudely.