One morning when, for the tenth successive time, he slid into his desk-chair an hour late, Mr. Comer bowed to him, not only familiarly, but sarcastically, then invited him to step into his private office and see if he could locate the center of the carpet.  It was a geometrical task that Louis had been wishing to try for some time.

The senior partner began with elaborate sarcasm.  “I notice you’re not getting down until nine o’clock lately, Mr. Mitchell.  Is your automobile out of order?”

“I have no automobile, Mr. Comer,” the youth replied, respectfully.

“No?  I’m surprised.  Well, if eight sharp is too early, you may set your time.”

Mitchell tried his best to appear disconcerted.  “You know I’m busy every evening with my trade,” said he.

“Nonsense.  I’ve seen you out with a different dressmaker every night that I’ve been down-town.”

“Those are not dressmakers, they are stenographers from the railroad offices.  I’m sorry you’re not satisfied with me, but I’m glad you called me in, for I’ve been meaning to speak to you about this very thing.  You see, I have practically all the railroad business in the city, and it takes too much of my time keeping it lined up.  I have no leisure of my own.  I’ll quit Saturday night, if convenient.”

Mr. Comer grunted like a man who has stepped off a flight of stairs one step too soon.  “I didn’t know it was really business.  Of course, if it is, why, you needn’t quit—­exactly—­”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to.”  Mitchell dropped his eyes demurely.  “I’ve had a number of offers, and in justice to myself—­”

“Offers? You?  How much?”

“One hundred a month and expenses.”

Mr. Comer removed his glasses, he polished them carefully, then he readjusted them and leaned forward, looking the young man over from head to foot, as if he had never until this moment seen more than his vague outlines.

“Um-m!  You’re nineteen years old, I believe!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, then, an hour’s delay won’t be serious.  Now you go back to your desk and send Mr. Murphy here.  I’ll let you know shortly whether Saturday night or this noon will be convenient.”

It was perhaps a half-hour before lunch-time when Mr. Comer again called for Mitchell, greeting him with the gruff inquiry: 

“See here, do you think I’m going to advance you from twelve to twenty-five a week at one clip?”

“No, sir.”

“Humph!  I’m not.  I had a talk with Murphy.  I think he’s a liar, but I’m going to make it fifteen hundred a year and expenses.  Now get busy and work your ‘trade’ for all it’s worth.”

Young Mitchell’s knees wabbled, but, having learned the value of a black mask and a gun, he went through his victim thoroughly while he had him down.

“I’d like a traveling position the first of the year, sir, if you don’t mind.”

“All right!  If you hold your present gait I’ll give you the Western roads.  Anything else you’d like?  Well, then, git!”