“One day while you were away with little Tod Baker on a fishing excursion, I received a call from Pete Tucker of Posyville—I don’t think you ever met him. Pete had seen a good deal of the world, and his stories of adventure were perfectly fascinating to me. He had been to sea several times, had spent a couple of seasons doing the happy family act with a circus and, at the time of his visit to me, was living in Chicago—having come home for a few days’ vacation. He said a great deal about the pleasures of city life, and informed me that he had a most delightful situation where he mingled with the best society and had very little to do to earn what he described as an enormous salary.
“‘Tommy, my boy,’ he said, slapping me familiarly on the shoulder, ‘you are a blamed fool to bury yourself out here in the country! Come back to the city with me, and I’ll get you a nice soft berth where you can make something of yourself.’ I yielded only too readily to the tempter and long before you returned home, my dear Fido, I was on my way to Chicago.
“I had never before been in a large city, hence Chicago unfolded a new world to me—a world that seemed as fair as I have since found it to be corrupt.
“Pete had told me the truth, in some respects, regarding his situation. He was employed as chief mouser in the bar-room of a fashionable hotel, and living on the fat of the land. I was soon installed as assistant mouser, the rat department being under the management of a terrier gentleman named Foxy. And now came my initiation into the mysteries of office-holding.
“It was with all the honest enthusiasm of youth that I began my duties, and without noting the methods of my superiors in office I worked hard day and night in the conscientious effort to secure the approbation of my employers. Pete and Foxy observed my industry with great curiosity at first, and then seemed to be somewhat amused by my actions. I finally discovered that they were actually laughing at me. This bewildered me, and I finally ventured to ask for an explanation.
“‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed my colleagues. ‘What a young innocent it is, to be sure!’ ‘Why,’ said Pete, ‘you couldn’t see through a millstone with a hole in it! We used to work ourselves to death just as you are doing, but we’ve got a little sense nowadays, eh, Foxy?’
“‘You bet your boots, pardner!’ replied the terrier.
“‘Now, see here, Tommy,’ continued Pete, ‘I’ll tell you just how the thing stands. We found out long ago that hard work didn’t pay, and made up our minds to do as little work and have as good a time as we possibly could.
“‘Among the patrons of this place is a number of politicians and policemen. I tell you what, Tommy, those are the boys who are on to their jobs! Chancing to overhear some of their conversation at various times, I speedily discovered that I was making a blamed fool of myself. I then resolved to hold my job just as politicians and policemen do.
“‘Foxy and I have come to an understanding with our rodent friends, and with a little care on their part, we have managed to avoid all suspicion that we are not attending strictly to business.