The Argosy, April 1916 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

THE HEIR TO THREE MILLIONS. Tom sawed through a shank with rather impatient vigor. “Well, it ain’t givin’ me no worry—what he was after,” he said. “I ain’t heard no more about it, an’ prob’ly never will.” A favorite customer entered and claimed the proprietor’s attention—a shrewd land- lady from the “pension” district, seeking the least costly cuts from the round of beef, which would figure plausibly in her table d’hote as “prime ribs, au jus.” It was still too early for the regular morning marketers, and Tom was mildly surprised when a trim elderly man in clothes of conspicuous neatness and fine tailoring came in. “Well, sir?’ Tom dropped his saw and stepped forward with businesslike alacrity. The elderly man seemed slightly confused and undecided. He looked at Tom search- ingly, glanced at the proprietor, then back to Tom. “Um—ah—well, I'll take a porterhouse steak, I guess,” he said at last. ‘About a couple of pounds, sir?” asked Tom, seizing a knife and whirling a piece of beef into range on the bench. “Ves, that will do,” was the answer. “By the way,” said the old gentleman softly, watching the cutting process, but appearing oddly ill at ease, “‘you’re not the young butcher I—I was reading about in the paper the other day, are you? His name was—Oh, I think his name was Rob- inson.” “No,” answered Tom tersely; “my name is Pender.” ‘“‘Ah, yes,” said the old gentleman, ap- parently not at all disappointed in the an- swer. ‘You cut that meat, young man, as though you knew your trade pretty well. I should think, though, that a young man like you would start in at some trade that promised more of a future.” Tom looked up quickly, with an air of challenge, but decided that the customer was no more than good-humoredly inquisi- tive. “There ain’t much money in the retail meat business,” he replied, ‘but a feller has got to start somewhere. One o’ the big- gest meat packers in Chicago started out peddlin’ meat in a hand-cart.”’ “Oh, I dare say,” agreed the customer readily. “Small beginnings often lead to great things. Of course, if a young man is honest and industrious, doesn’t drink, and thinks more of his work than of his pleas- 77 ures, he can carve out a good future for himself.” Tom was naturally suspicious of loqua- cious persons, but the old gentleman was clearly sincere and friendly. “That’s the way I figger it out,” he said. “T keep away from the booze, an’ I work the best I know how for the man that pays me for it. If I keep at it an’ play square, I'll prob’ly be payin’ men of my own some day.” “You have the right idea,” remarked the old gentleman, appearing genuinely grati- fied. ‘With that philosophy, followed out without compromise, a man may become one of the leaders of his race. Read good, solid books, young man; find out what the good men of your day are doing; stick to your colors, no matter what happens, and you'll have comfort and peace of mind when youre old enough to need them above all other things.” “Yes, sir,” said Tom, slightly embar- rassed by his customer’s intense earnestness. “Two pounds an’ a quarter, sir; is that all right? That’s fifty-four cents.” The customer nodded abstractedly. He plucked a dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the bench, as he received the brown-paper parcel. “Keep the change for your trouble, young man,” he said awkwardly. Tom stared, amazed and inclined to take umbrage. He snapped up the bill, thrust it into the till of the cash register, and pushed the correct change swiftly across the counter. ‘Thanks, just the same,’ he said curtly, “but you got me wrong! I get paid for my work by the boss. Waiters and chauf- feurs—some o’ them fellers take tips as a reg lar thing, but it ain’t done in this busi- ness.”’ The old gentleman was abashed. He gathered in his change with a crestfallen air. “All right, young man,” he said quietly; “T meant no offense. And I’m glad to see that you have some spirit. Money is a necessary and important thing, but it shouldn’t be won at the sacrifice of pride. Youre quite right.” He turned toward the door with his par- cel under his arm, but stopped again and stared ‘vaguely about the shop, with the same mysterious air of indecision that he had shown at first. All at once, however, he pulled himself together with a start, mumbled a brisk ‘Good-morning,” and _ cComicloooks C@