“What in — did you hit him for, you — fool?” he hissed at me.
“I had a jolly good time doing it,” I explained; and I was sufficiently recovered to laugh a little at the momentary sport which I had had in making a fool of myself.
Clark helped me to my feet, and we walked off together, only I could not walk very far at a stretch. He did not desert me, and he would not leave the subject of my folly. But he changed his point of view at length, and acknowledged, finally, that he was “glad that I had got in a few licks on the porter’s eye,” an emotion which I warmly shared.
That day was chiefly memorable because of Clark’s final success in finding work. It came from a most unexpected quarter. We were walking together through Adams Street when a man touched Clark upon the shoulder and withdrew to the doorway of a shop. Clark recognized him at once as a foundry superintendent with whom he had been importunate for work, and his face lighted up with a hopefulness which made the moment almost tragic. I stood at the doorstep and listened.
“Ain’t you found a job yet?” began the superintendent.
“No.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about your case,” he continued. “We ain’t got a job for you at the foundry,” he hastened to explain, “but I’ve heard from a friend of mine in Milwaukee, and they’re short of men in your line. Could you go up there?”
“I could walk,” said Clark.
“Well, that ain’t necessary. I—I’m good for a ticket,” added the superintendent, with a look of embarrassment.
And he was as good as his word, for he went with Clark to the station, where he added to the ticket a dollar, both of which were accepted as a loan.