with a great line of philosophy. Some of it was sort of crude,
but--one day Uncle John was saying something about tough things we all
have to do, and this fellow chimed in and said: 'Yes, sir, every man's
got to skin his own skunk.'"

Mr. Archer smiled and nodded. "Your year won't have been wasted,
Henry. And when it's over, if you want to get out of the picture
business, you'll find that you can get a dozen first-rate jobs from
men who wouldn't have taken you in as their office-boy a season
ago.... Give my love to your wife, Henry, and tell her for me that
I'm proud of you."

"I'll tell her," said Henry, "but _I_ won't be proud until I've nailed
that skin over the barn-door."

* * * * *

On his way out, he dropped in for a moment to see Bob Standish. Bob
was at his old tricks again; and while his competitors in realty, and
insurance, and mortgage loans, made the same mistake that once his
classmates and instructors and the opposing ends and tackles had made,
and argued that his fair skin and his innocent blue eyes, his indolent
manner and his perfection of dress all evidenced his lack of wit and
stamina, he had calmly proceeded to chase several of those competitors
out of business, and to purchase their good-will on his own terms. It
was popularly said, in his own circle, that Standish would clear a
hundred thousand dollars his first year.

He winked lazily at Henry, and indicated a chair. "Set!" said
Standish. "Glad you came in. Two things to ask you. Want to sell?
Want to rent?"

"If you were in my shoes, would you sell, Bob?"

"I can get you twenty-eight thousand."

"That's low."

"Sure, but everybody knows you've got a clientele that nobody else
could get. Are you talking?"

"I--guess not just yet."

"Want to rent? I just had a nibble for small space; you could get
fifty a month for that attic you're using for a nursery."

"I--hardly think so, Bob. That's a pet scheme of Anna's, and besides,
we need it. It's good advertising."

His friend's eyes were round and childlike. "Made any plans for the
future, Henry? Know what you'll do if you stub your toe?"

"Sell out and strike you for a job, I guess."

"Don't believe it would work, old man."

"Don't you think so?"

"One pal boss another? Too much family."

Henry looked serious. "I'm sorry you think so. _I_ wouldn't have
kicked."

"No, I'm afraid I couldn't give you a job, old dear. I like you too
wel