“Good-day, sir,” he said, affably.
The old man looked up.
“Good-day,” he replied. “Who may you be?”
“I’m an unfortunate man, in search of employment.”
“When people are unfortunate there is generally a reason for it. Are you intemperate?”
“No, sir,” answered Burns, as if horror-stricken. “I hate the taste of liquor.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“I belong to three temperance societies,” continued Tom, by way of deepening the favorable impression he thought he had made.
“And still you are poor?”
“Yes,” answered Burns. “Once I was prosperous, but I was ruined by signing notes for an unprincipled man who took advantage of my friendship. Do you think I can find work here?”