“I am the boss, my man. What do you want?”
“I’m looking for a job, sir,” said Chick, respectfully touching his cap with his forefinger. “I thought, mebbe——”
“That I would give you employment?” Bart put in, with searching scrutiny. “What led you to think so?”
“Nothing, sir, save that most stores need help,” Chick explained, quite humbly. “I have been trying for a job[{27}] in others, sir, but luck seems against me. I’m broke and in hard sledding, you see, and——”
“Do you live in the city?” Bart cut in again.
“No, sir. I’m here from Chicago only a couple of days.”
“Why did you leave there?”
“My boss failed, and that threw me out of a job. I couldn’t get another in Chicago, so I worked my way here on a freight train.”
“What sort of work can you do?”
“Any old kind, sir, that’ll earn me a dollar,” Chick asserted, somewhat suggestively. “I wouldn’t be particular. You can bet on that.”