"Stop a minute," said the old man, who had limped to a sofa in the outer office, and sat down.
"I guess I'll get something," thought Sam, cheerfully complying with the request.
"What do you do for a living?" asked the old man.
"Sometimes I black boots, sometimes I sell papers,—anything that'll pay."
"What are you doing now?"
"Nothing. Business aint good."
"Would you like something to do?"
Sam gave a glance into the office, and answered dubiously, "Yes." He was not at all clear about the nature of the employment likely to be offered.
"Then I may be able to give you a job. Do you know my business?"
"No, sir."