It might have been the girl, and again it might not have been.  He could not tell.  Possibly it was the simple little act of refusing the tip she had proffered him.  It might have been any one of a dozen little different things, or an accumulation of them all, that had brought back a sudden flood of the old self-confidence and optimism.

“To-morrow,” said Jimmy as he climbed into his bed, “I am going to land a job.”

And he did.  In the department store to the general managership of whose mail-order department he had aspired Jimmy secured a position in the hosiery department at ten dollars a week.  The department buyer who had interviewed him asked him what experience he had had with ladies’ hosiery.

“About four or five years,” replied Jimmy.

“For whom did you work?”

“I was in business for myself,” replied the applicant, “both in the West and in the East.  I got my first experience in a small town in Nebraska, but I carried on a larger business in the East later.”

So they gave Jimmy a trial in a new section of the hosiery department, wherein he was the only male clerk.  The buyer had discovered that there was a sufficient proportion of male customers, many of whom displayed evident embarrassment in purchasing hosiery from young ladies, to warrant putting a man clerk in one of the sections for this class of trade.

The fact of the matter was, however, that the astute buyer was never able to determine the wisdom of his plan, since Jimmy’s entire time was usually occupied in waiting upon impressionable young ladies.  However, inasmuch as it redounded to the profit of the department, the buyer found no fault.

Possibly if Jimmy had been almost any other type of man from what he was, his presence would not have been so flamboyantly noticeable in a hosiery department.  His stature, his features, and his bronzed skin, that had lost nothing of its bronze in his month’s search for work through the hot summer streets of a big city, were as utterly out of place as would have been the salient characteristics of a chorus-girl in a blacksmith-shop.

For the first week Jimmy was frightfully embarrassed, and to his natural bronze was added an almost continuous flush of mortification from the moment that he entered the department in the morning until he left it at night.

“It is a job, however,” he thought, “and ten dollars is better than nothing.  I can hang onto it until something better turns up.”

With his income now temporarily fixed at the amount of his wages, he was forced to find a less expensive boarding-place, although at the time he had rented his room he had been quite positive that there could not be a cheaper or more undesirable habitat for man.  Transportation and other considerations took him to a place on Indiana Avenue near Eighteenth Street, from whence he found he could walk to and from work, thereby saving ten cents a day.  “And believe me,” he cogitated, “I need the ten.”