“The rank is but the guinea, stamp;
The man’s the gold for a’ that!”
No incident worth recording befell Carl on his trip to Chicago. As a salesman he met with excellent success, and surprised Mr. Jennings by the size of his orders. He was led, on reaching Chicago, to register at the Sherman House, on Clark Street, one of the most reliable among the many houses for travelers offered by the great Western metropolis.
On the second day he made it a point to find out the store of John French, hoping to acquire the information desired by Miss Norris.
It was a store of good size, and apparently well stocked. Feeling the need of new footgear, Carl entered and asked to be shown some shoes. He was waited upon by a young clerk named Gray, with whom he struck up a pleasant acquaintance.
“Do you live in Chicago?” asked Gray? sociably.
“No; I am from New York State. I am here on business.”
“Staying at a hotel?”
“Yes, at the Sherman. If you are at leisure this evening I shall be glad to have you call on me. I am a stranger here, and likely to find the time hang heavy on my hands.”
“I shall be free at six o’clock.”
“Then come to supper with me.”