"And what are you going to be, William?"
And William was silent. He flushed a little, toyed with a button of his vest, and finally answered in a low tone—
"I know what I wanter be, and sometimes I think I know how to get there, and sometimes I don't, and I'd rather not tell it just now."
"I hope you'll succeed, William—if your aim is a lofty one."
"Well," drawled William, "it's some high, and Tommy Watson says I'm bughouse, but I tell him he's a bit that way himself."
"Tommy Watson, the auctioneer?"
"Sure—say, Mister Whimple, ain't he a pippin? My Pa says he can make people buy rocks and weep with joy on the bargains they're gettin' in diamon's."
That day Whimple called on Tommy Watson, famed as the peer of auctioneers. To those who counted among his friends and acquaintances, and they were as numerous as the wise "I-told-you-so's" on the day after an election or a prize fight, Tommy was always an inspiration and a delight. His long rambling store, with its wonderful stock of furniture, books, nick-nacks, pictures, all that goes to add zest to the life of the bargain-hunters and auction regulars, was a gathering-place for all classes. Tommy knew and was respected by the men whose names meant power and money; he was beloved by many a wage-earner for the help he gave in the all-important problems of home furnishing, and he was the idol of one William Adolphus Turnpike.
Whimple lost no time in preliminaries. "I've got an office boy, Tommy," he said, "and——"
"One William Adolphus Turnpike, to wit," Tommy broke in.