Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 136: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 127 Before replying, the man, transferring the tooth- pick he had been nursing in the left corner of his mouth to the right hand side of that aperture, re- crossed his legs, and after favoring Guy with a stare that took him in comprehensively from his derby hat to his well-blacked shoes, replied: ‘‘ Yes, and unsuited, too.” Guy looked puzzled, and the other, first glancing over his shoulder to be sure that the boy at work with the ice cakes was just then in the rear of the store, went on to explain: ‘‘No style about him. Can take in ice well enough, but no good to go around and drum up trade. Will give him his walking papers to-night. Come back into the office and I'll talk with you.” Guy followed this rather peculiar individual to a room partitioned off from the store proper with glass, where he was invited to take a seat. ‘‘Now, then,” began the butter and cheese man, ‘‘have you had any experience in our line?” ‘‘No, sir,” answered Guy. ‘‘What have you been doing lately?” was the next question. Guy replied that he had been connected with the Starr Concert Company. ‘‘Oh, indeed, you are a singer, then ?” Guy was obliged to admit that he was not, and then briefly explained that he had gone with the com- pany simply because his mother was in it, and that he had left it to return to New York on business for her. ‘‘Do you think you could adapt yourself to the Gomichboo cS (E(0) m