“How shall I make my restaurant more attractive?” thought Joe.
He decided first that he would buy good articles and insist upon as much neatness as possible about the tables. At many of the restaurants very little attention was paid to this, and visitors who had been accustomed to neatness at home were repelled.
Soon Joe’s dining-room acquired a reputation, and the patronage increased. At the end of the third month he had not only paid up the original loan of seven hundred dollars, but was the owner of the three lots, and had four hundred dollars over. He began to feel that his prosperity was founded on a solid basis.
One day about this time, as he was at the desk where he received money from his patrons as they went out, his attention was drawn to a rough fellow, having the appearance of a tramp, entering at the door. The man’s face seemed familiar to him, and it flashed upon him that it was Henry Hogan, who had defrauded him in New York.
The recognition was mutual.
“You here?” he exclaimed, in surprise.
“So it seems,” said Joe.
“Is it a good place?”
“I like it.”
“Who’s your boss?”