n
years old, when he became associated with one Blodgett in the Grocery
Business, at a weekly Insult of Two Bones.

All the time Aleck was cleaning the Coal-Oil Lamps or watching the New
Orleans Syrup trickle into the Jug, he was figuring how much of the
Stipend he could segregate and isolate and set aside for the venerable
Mr. Fishberry, the Taker-In up at the Bank with the Chinchilla on the
Larynx.

For ten long years the White Slave tested Eggs and scooped the C
Sugar.

When Aleck became of Age, Mr. Blodgett was compelling him to take $30
the first of every month.

He lived on Snowballs in the Winter and Dandelions in the Summer, but
he had paid $800 on a two-story Brick facing Railroad Street.

His name was a Byword and Hissing among the Pool-Players.
Nevertheless, he stood Ace High with the old Two-per-cent-a Month up
at the Abattoir known as the Farmers & Merchants' Bank.

The Boys who dropped in every thirty Days came to know him as a Wise
Fish and a Close Buyer. They boosted at Headquarters, so the first
thing you know Aleck was a Drummer, with two Grips bigger than
Dog-Houses and a chance to swing on the Expense Account.

A lowly and unsung Wanamaker would be sitting in his Prunery, wearing
Yarn Wristlets to keep warm and meditating another Attack on the
Bottle of Stomach Bitters in the Safe, when Aleck would breeze in and
light on him and sell him several Gross of something he didn't need.

The Traveling Salesman dug up many a Cross-Roads overlooked by the
Map-Makers.

He knew how to pin a Rube against the Wall and make him say "Yes."

He rode in Cabooses, fought the Roller-Towels, endured the Taunts of
Ess, Bess, and Tess who shot the Sody Biscuit, and reclined in the
Chamber of Horrors, entirely surrounded by Wall-Paper, but what cared
he?

He was salting the Spon.

He was closing in on the Needful.

For a term of years he lived on Time-Tables and slept sitting up.

Day after day he dog-trotted through a feverish Routine of unpacking
and packing, and then climbing back to the superheated Day Coach among
the curdled Smells.

Every January 1st he did a Gaspard Chuckle when he checked up the
total Get, for now he owned two Brick Buildings and had tasted a
little Blood in the way of Chattel Mortgages.

One of the partners in the Jobbing Concern happened to die. Before
Rigor Mortis could set in or the Undertaker had time to flash a Tape
Measure, Aleck was up at the grief-stricken Home to cop