To My Son,
Upon the Fitting-Out of New Offices
With a half-embarrassed smile, Bobby regarded that letter thoughtfully and carried it into the luxurious new office. He opened it and read it, and, still with that queer smile, passed it over to Starlett. This was old John Burnit’s message:
“I have seen a business work up to success, and afterward add velvet rugs and dainty flowers on the desk, but I never saw a successful business start that way.”
Bobby looked around him with a grin. There was a velvet rug on the floor. There were no flowers upon the mahogany desk, but there was a vase to receive them. For just one moment he was nonplussed; then he opened the door leading to the dingy apartment occupied by Messrs. Johnson and Applerod.
“Mr. Johnson,” said he, “will you kindly send out and get two dozen pink carnations for my room?”
Quiet, big Jack Starlett, having loaded and lit and taken the first long puff, removed his pipe from his lips.
“Bully!” said he.
CHAPTER III
OLD JOHN BURNIT’S ANCIENT ENEMY POINTS OUT THE WAY TO GRANDEUR
Mr. Johnson had no hair in the very center of his head, but, when he was more than usually vexed, he ran his fingers through what was left upon both sides of the center and impatiently pushed it up toward a common point. His hair was in that identical condition when he knocked at the door of Bobby’s office and poked in his head to announce Mr. Silas Trimmer.