ll I got to do is sit around. Why
don't you send me out on the road and give me a show?"

"A show I would give you," Zwiebel cried. "You mean a picnic, not a
show. No, Milton, I got some pretty good customers already, but I
wouldn't take no such liberties with 'em as sending out a lowlife like
you to sell 'em goods."

"All right," Milton said, and relapsed into a sulky silence.

"Lookyhere, Milton," Zwiebel commenced. "If I thought you was really
willing to work, y'understand, I would get you a good job. But with a
feller what's all the time fooling away his time, what's the use?"

"Maybe the boy would behave himself this time, popper," Mrs. Zwiebel
interceded. "Maybe he would attend to business this time, popper. Ain't
it?"

"Business!" Mr. Zwiebel exclaimed. "Business is something what the boy
ain't got in him at all. Honest, mommer, I got to sit down sometimes
and ask myself what did I done that I should have such a boy. He
wouldn't work; he wouldn't do nothing. Just a common, low-life bum,
what you see hanging around street corners. If I was a young feller
like that, Milton, I would be ashamed to show myself."

"Aw, cut it out!" Milton replied.

"Yes, mommer, if I would get that boy a good job, y'understand," Mr.
Zwiebel went on, "he would turn right around and do something,
y'understand, what would make me like I could never show myself again
in the place where he worked."

"Aw, what are you beefing about now?" Milton broke in. "You never got
me a decent job yet. All the places where I worked was piker concerns.
Why don't you get me a real job where I could sell some goods?"

"Talk is cheap, Milton," said Mr. Zwiebel. "But if I thought you meant
it what you said I would take up an offer what I got it yesterday from
Levy Rothman, of Levy Rothman & Co. He wants a young feller what he
could bring up in the business, mommer, and make it a salesman out of
him. But what's the use?"

"Maybe if you would take Milton down there and let Mr. Rothman see
him," Mrs. Zwiebel suggested, "maybe the boy would like the place."

"No, sir," Mr. Zwiebel declared, "I wouldn't do it. I positively
wouldn't do nothing of the kind."

He glanced anxiously at his son out of the corner of his eye, but
Milton gave no sign.

"Why should I do it?" he went on. "Levy Rothman is a good customer of
mine and he wants to pay a young feller fifteen dollars a week to
start. Naturally, he expects he should get a hard-working feller for
th