 | A Self-Made Man |  |
TOM had a hole in his shoe. It was very round and very uncomfortable, particularly when he went on wet pavements. Rainy days made him feel that he was walking on frozen dollars, although he had only to think for a moment to discover he was not.
He used up almost two packs of playing cards by means of putting four cards at a time inside his shoe as a sort of temporary sole, which usually lasted about half a day. Once he put in four aces for luck. He went down town that morning and got refused work. He thought it wasn't a very extraordinary performance for a young man of ability, and he was not sorry that night to find his packs were entirely out of aces.
One day, Tom was strolling down Broadway. He was in pursuit of work, although his pace was slow. He had found that he must take the matter coolly. So he puffed tenderly at a cigarette and walked as if he owned stock. He imitated success so successfully that if it wasn't for the constant reminder (king, queen, deuce, and tray) in his shoe, he would have gone into a store and bought something.
He had borrowed five cents that morning of his landlady, for his mouth craved tobacco. Although he owed her much for board, she had unlimited confidence in him, because his stock of self-assurance was very large indeed. And as it increased in a proper ratio with the amount of his bills, his relations with her seemed on a firm basis. So he strolled along and smoked, with his confidence in fortune in nowise impaired by his financial condition.
Of a sudden he perceived an old man seated upon a railing, and smoking a clay pipe.
He stopped to look because he wasn't in a hurry, and because it was an unusual thing on Broadway to see old men seated upon railings and smoking clay pipes.
And to his surprise the old man regarded him very intently in return. He stared, with a wistful expression, into Tom's face, and he clasped his hands in trembling excitement.
Tom was filled with astonishment at the old man's strange demeanour. He stood, puffing at his cigarette, and tried to understand matters. Failing, he threw his cigarette away, took a fresh one from his pocket, and approached the old man.
'Got a match?' he inquired pleasantly.
The old man, much agitated, nearly fell from the railing as he leaned dangerously forward.
'Sonny, can you read?' he demanded, in a quavering voice.
'Certainly I can,' said Tom encouragingly. He waived the affair of the match.
The old man fumbled in his pocket. 'You look honest, sonny. I've been lookin' fer an honest feller fur a'most a week. I've set on this railing fur six days,' he cried plaintively.
He drew forth a letter and handed it to Tom. 'Read it fur me, sonny, read it,' he said coaxingly.
Tom took the letter and leaned back against the railings. As he opened it and prepared to read, the old man wriggled like a child at a forbidden feast.
Thundering trucks made frequent interruptions and seven men in a hurry jogged Tom's elbow, but he succeeded in reading what follows:
| A Self-Made Man | |