I thought I was destined to stay with him, until my mother happened to leave the store for a few minutes, when he asked me if I thought I would like the business. I told him no, I knew I would dislike it. He said he wouldn't fool his time away with a boy who had no taste for the business, and so informed my mother.
I returned home with her, and that evening she and Mr. Keefer and myself had a long conference.
We talked about the past, and my mother suggested all kinds of trades, professions and clerkships, all of which I objected to, because I would not work for some one else.
Mr. Keefer said he believed I would strike something "yet" that I would make money out of.
My mother said she couldn't understand why he should think so; everything had been a failure thus far.
He explained his reasons by reminding her that with all my misfortunes, not one dollar had been spent in dissipation or gambling, but invariably in trying to make money, and with no lack of energy.
I remained idle a few days until the few dollars Mr. Keefer had loaned me were spent, when one day I called upon a friend in town. Kintz by name, who was engaged in the bakery business.
In conversation with him I learned that he owned two watches and wanted to exchange one of them (a small lady's gold watch) for something else. I asked him to let me carry it and try and find a customer for it.
I called that evening on the night telegraph operator, Andy Clock, and bantered him to trade watches. He owned a large silver watch and gold chain.
"How will you trade?" I asked, showing him the lady's gold watch.