"Nix, not!" says I. "When I plays myself for a confidential manager I
wants to pull down more than four per. Givin' book agents the quick back
up and runnin' errands is my strong points. For tips on the market and
such as that I charges overtime."

Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rung
the bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr.
Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button.

"Mr. Sweetwater," says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I've
persuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be Mining
Company. Put him on the payroll at five a week, and then induce that
mass meeting in the corridor to adjourn."

"Say," says I, "does that mean I'm picked?"

"You're the chosen one," says he.

"Gee!" says I. "You had me guessin', though! But you ain't drawn any
blank. I'll shinny on your side, Mr. Pepper, as long's you'll let
me--and that's no gust of wind, either."

And say, inside of three days I'd got the minin' business down to a
science. Course it was a cinch. All I has to do is fold bunches of
circulars, stick stamps on the envelopes, and lug 'em up to the general
P. O. once a day. That, and chasin' out after a dollar's worth of cigars
now and then for Mr. Pepper, and keepin' Sweetie jollied along, didn't
make me round shouldered.

Sweetie was cut out for the undertakin' business, by rights. He took
things hard, he did. Every tick of the clock was a solemn moment for
him, and me gettin' a stamp on crooked was a case that called for a
heart to heart talk. He used to show me the books he was keepin', and
the writin' was as reg'lar as if it'd been done on a job press.

"You're a wonder, you are, Sweetie," says I; "but some day your hand is
going to joggle, and there'll be a blot on them pages, and then you'll
die of heart disease."

Miss Allen, the typewriter fairy, was a good deal of a frost. She was
one of the kind that would blow her lunch money on havin' her hair done
like some actress, and worry through the week on an apple and two pieces
of fudge at noon. I never had much use for her. She called me just Boy,
as though I wa'n't hardly human at all. She'd sit and pat that hair of
hers by the hour, feelin' to see if all the diff'rent waves and bunches
was still there. It was a work of art, all right; but it didn't leave
her time to think of much else. I used to get her wild by askin' how the
six other sisters