“You’ll have to bring me something more satisfactory than them,” and went on with his work.
The young Swede followed me out of the passage.
“Did you get the job?” he asked, in good English.
“No,” I said, “not yet. You have a good chance; you would better wait until the boss sends for you.”
“I guess not to-day,” he answered, and he stolidly refused my advice, and I saw him disappear by another way from the Stock-yards.
CHAPTER IV
A HAND-TRUCKMAN IN A FACTORY
No. — Blue Island Avenue, Chicago,
Wednesday, February 3, 1892.
At half-past five this afternoon I completed seven weeks of service as a hand-truckman in a factory. Mrs. Schultz, my landlady, tells me that she is sorry that I am going away; and now that the long-looked-for end is come, I am not in the least elated, as I thought that I should be. But the days are lengthening markedly with the promise of the coming spring, and I am forcefully reminded that the time grows short for the study at close range of much that still awaits me in this great working city before I can well set out again upon my westward journey.