His name was a Byword and Hissing among the Pool-Players.
Nevertheless, he stood Ace High with the old Two-per-cent-a-Month up at the Abattoir known as the Farmers & Merchants' Bank.
The Boys who dropped in every thirty Days came to know him as a Wise
Fish and a Close Buyer. They boosted at Headquarters, so the first
thing you know Aleck was a Drummer, with two Grips bigger than Dog-
Houses and a chance to swing on the Expense Account.
A lowly and unsung Wanamaker would be sitting in his Prunery, wearing Yarn Wristlets to keep warm and meditating another Attack on the Bottle of Stomach Bitters in the Safe, when Aleck would breeze in and light on him and sell him several Gross of something he didn't need.
The Traveling Salesman dug up many a Cross-Roads overlooked by the Map-
Makers.
He knew how to pin a Rube against the Wall and make him say "Yes."
He rode in Cabooses, fought the Roller-Towels, endured the Taunts of
Ess, Bess, and Tess who shot the Sody Biscuit, and reclined in the
Chamber of Horrors, entirely surrounded by Wall-Paper, but what cared
he?
He was salting the Spon.
He was closing in on the Needful.
For a term of years he lived on Time-Tables and slept sitting up.