Out of a job again! Well, what did we care? We had been in that identical fix a score of times before.
Two weeks later found us in Ohio as representatives for a publishing company, that sounds so much better than "just book agents," where came the "doing" of Fostoria, Tiffin, and last but not least, Fremont.
I can still remember those samples of front door eloquence, which we used to reel off to all the mothers. I shall never forget one instance in particular when I was telling a mother these books were worth their bulk in diamonds, their weight in gold, or some words to that effect, when I happened to look across at Anderson and beheld his countenance, usually stoical on such occasions, distorted in a good-natured grin. I exploded in laughter, tried unsuccessfully to apologize, then, not wishing to make myself any more ridiculous than I could help, bolted for the screen door, slammed it after me, and left one William B. Anderson of Brooklyn, to make the best of the situation, while I lowered the record for a hundred yard dash down the street. But the best part of it was that he was more than equal to the occasion, and sold her a set of books.
We were representatives of the Students' Reference Work, an encyclopedia in a nut shell, so to speak, condensed for the use of school children. During ten days as representatives of this publishing house we found two purchasers.
We would stroll up to a house, rap, and on being confronted by the lady of the house we would promptly ask her if she had children in the public schools. As soon as we asked about her children, she would become interested, thinking we were school authorities, and then invite us inside. Once seated in the house we would approach the subject of the child's advancement by degrees, and then when the time came I would bring to view a prospectus of the book, which I carried concealed under my coat. We had to practice deceit to gain admittance to the houses, for if ever any of them saw a book agent approaching they would let you stand there till doom's day without answering the bell.
Next came Toledo, Ohio, where we thought we'd try a Thespian career, so we shanghaied into that unknown aggregation of "hamfatters." Looking ahead we could see ourselves in the limelight, actors, "stars," if you please, at a salary of $1,000 the week, and all that sort of thing; the rude awakening came later. The cynical manager, rejoicing in the name of Hoppstein, still owes yours truly a certain little sum for services rendered in a thinking part, notwithstanding the fact that I have jogged his memory several times with a few please remits.
It was in Toledo that we separated, Anderson beating it towards the West, while I struck out for home. Before leaving Toledo, Anderson served a week as "barker" for a refreshment stand and side-show of the "Feast and Furies" company. I was in Toledo for his first day's performance, and as I looked at that noisy, brazen barker, I hazily remembered that a few months before I had seen this same individual in Cadet navy blue, jauntily marching on dress parade.
We had been together nine months, sharing each others joys and sorrows. Each found a good companion in the other, and it was hard to separate. However, before departing, we signed a pledge to meet again on the Pacific Coast. This pledge was to the effect that we would meet in the Post Office of Palo Alto, California, on January 5th, between the hours of twelve and one. If it so happened that it was impossible for either of us to get there, we were to inform the other by wire or letter, stating the cause of delay and also advising date of arrival. With this pledge signed and sealed, we parted in the month of August.