Thus he found that he would have considerable leisure time, and this he resolved to turn to account to increase his limited resources, and so began to look about for employment. But what to do was the question.
This was answered for him within a week or two by overhearing some of the juniors and seniors complaining of their blurred and unsightly windows, and asserting that they could find no one to do satisfactory cleaning for them.
Acting upon the impulse of the moment, Clifford stepped up to them, and remarked in a straightforward, manly way:
“Gentlemen, I am looking for work to help me through my course—let me try my hand upon your windows.”
They stared at him with a supercilious air for a moment, but as he met their glances with a front as unflinching as their own, and without manifesting the slightest embarrassment on account of his request, one of the number observed:
“Say, let’s try him, boys, the janitors are so rushed they’re no good, and we don’t want any woman prowling about,” and forthwith Clifford had half a dozen orders, and set that very afternoon to begin operations.
From that time he had all he could do at ten and fifteen cents per window, according to size, and his work proved to be so satisfactory that he was frequently offered a tip besides. But this he scorned to accept in every instance.
“Thanks. I have but one price,” he would invariably observe, and never failed to give the exact change.
Generally he was courteously treated by his patrons, but now and then he would meet a snob whose sole aim appeared to be to make him feel the immeasurable distance between a heavy purse and a light one. But even in these cases he proved himself a match for such customers. He would fill his order to the very best of his ability, but he would never take a second one from the same party.
“Very sorry,” he would say, with the utmost politeness, “but I am too busy. I have all the orders I can fill at present. You had better speak to one of the janitors.”