JOE LOOKS FOR WORK
“Joseph Faulkner?” inquired Mr. Dennison, the high school principal.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m very glad to meet you, Faulkner.” They shook hands and Mr.
Dennison pulled a chair nearer the big, broad-topped desk. “Sit down,
please. You wrote me a week or so ago from Akron, I believe, and
enclosed a letter from your principal, Mr. Senter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have it here, I think.” Mr. Dennison searched for a moment in
the file at his elbow and drew forth the two communications pinned
together. He read Mr. Senter’s letter again and nodded.
“I see,” he murmured. “Now tell me something about yourself, my boy.
Your father has died recently?”
“Yes, sir, in November.”
“I’m very sorry. I think now I recall reading of his death in the
paper. He was the editor of the _Enterprise_, I believe?”
“Yes, sir. He owned the paper, too. That is, most of it.”
“Your mother is alive, I trust?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you have brothers and sisters?”
“No, sir; there’s only me.”
“I see. I rather expected your mother would call with you, Faulkner.
It’s the customary thing. We rather like to meet the pupils’ parents
and get in touch with them, so to speak. Possibly your mother, however,
was not feeling well enough to accompany you this morning.”
“She isn’t here, sir. She’s in Columbus. You see, father didn’t leave
much money and so she――she took a position in Columbus and sent me here
to live with an aunt, a Miss Teele, on Brewer Street. Mother wants
me to finish high school. I thought I’d ought to go to work, but she
wouldn’t let me.”
“Dear, dear!” said Mr. Dennison sympathetically. “Most unfortunate!
Well, I think your mother is quite right, my boy. You’ll be better
fitted to face the――er――the responsibilities of life if you have
supplied yourself with an education. Hm! Yes. Now, let me see. I gather
from what your former principal writes that you have been a very
steady, hard-working student. You like to study and learn, Faulkner?”
“Yes, sir. That is, I like to study some things. And, of course, I want
to learn. Mr. Senter said he thought there wouldn’t be any trouble
about my getting into the junior class here, sir. I’ve only missed
about seven weeks.”
“I see.” Mr. Dennison thoughtfully folded the letters in his hands,
observing Joe the while. What he saw prepossessed him in the boy’s
favour. Joe was large for his age, sturdy without being heavy, and
had the healthful colouring and clear eyes of a youth who had divided
his time fairly between indoors and out. You wouldn’t have called him
handsome, perhaps, for his nose wasn’t at all classic, being rather of
the tip-tilted variety, and his chin was a bit too square to meet the
Greek standard of beauty. Perhaps it was the chin that had suggested
spunk to Aunt Sarah. Anyhow, it suggested it to Mr. Dennison. In fact,
the whole face spoke of eager courage, and the gray eyes looked out
with a level directness that proclaimed honesty. For the rest, he had
light-brown hair, so light that one hesitated at calling it brown, but
had to for want of a better description, a forehead that matched the
chin in breadth and gave the face a square look, and a mouth that, no
matter how serious the rest of the countenance was, seemed on the point
of breaking into a smile. On the whole, summed up the principal, a
healthy, honest, capable appearing boy, and one likely to be heard from.
“Yes,” said Mr. Dennison after a moment’s silence, “yes, I think the
junior class is where you belong. At least, we’ll try you there. I
don’t want to set you back unless it’s quite necessary. You may have to
work hard for a month or so to catch up, but I think you can do it. How
old are you, Faulkner?”
“Sixteen, sir, on the fourth of last August.” Other questions were
asked and answered and the answers were entered on a filing card. Then:
“Can you start in tomorrow?” asked the principal.
“Yes, sir, I’d like to.”
“Very well. Then in the morning report in Room D to Mr. Whalen. School
takes in at eight-thirty. Here is a list of books and materials you’ll
need, many of which you doubtless have already. Any books or stationery
you need can be obtained at the outer office. Books may be purchased
outright or rented, as you please. That’s all, I think. I hope you’ll
like us here, Faulkner. You must get acquainted with the other boys,
you know, and then you’ll feel more at home. Come and see me in a day
or two and tell me how you are getting on. And if there’s anything you
want to know or if there’s any help you need don’t hesitate to apply to
Mr. Jonson, my assistant, or to me.” Mr. Dennison shook hands again and
Joe, armed with the printed list of books and materials, expressed his
thanks and passed out into the corridor. A gong had sounded a moment
before and the stairways and halls were thronged with students. No one,
however, paid any attention to Joe and he left the big building and
walked across the town to Main Street and turned southward, his eyes
busy as he went.
The sky was still gray and Main Street was ankle-deep in yellow-brown
slush, and Amesville did not, perhaps, look its best even yet. But the
buildings, if not so fine as those of Akron, were solid and substantial
for the most part, and the stores presented enticing windows and
leavened the grayness with colour and brightness. It seemed, he
decided, a busy, bustling little city――he had already ascertained that
it boasted a population of twenty-five thousand and the honor of being
the county seat――and it didn’t require any great effort of imagination
to fancy himself back in Akron.
Joe not only observed but he studied, and for a reason. To let you into
a secret which he had so far confided to no one, Joe had no intention
of allowing his mother to pay Aunt Sarah for his board and lodging for
very long. He meant to find some sort of work that he could perform
before and after school hours. What it was to be he did not yet know,
although there was one job he expected to be able to secure if nothing
more promising offered. He was fairly certain, although his mother
had not taken him into her confidence to that extent, that hotel
housekeepers did not receive munificent wages, and he realised that his
mother, used to having practically every comfort money could buy, would
find it hard enough to get on without having to send a part of her
monthly salary to Aunt Sarah.
The job that he felt pretty certain of obtaining was that of delivering
newspapers. Joe was well enough acquainted with the newspaper business
to know that it was always difficult for circulation managers to find
boys enough to keep the routes covered. He had had some experience
of the kind, for when he was in grammar school he had delivered the
_Enterprise_ all one Summer and part of a Winter, until, in fact,
a chronic condition of wet feet caused his mother to interfere. His
father had not at any time approved of the proceeding, for Mr. Faulkner
had been a man of position in Akron and it had seemed to him that in
carrying a newspaper route Joe was performing labor beneath him and,
perhaps, casting aspersions on the financial and social standing of
Mr. John Faulkner. Joe had had to beg long for permission and his
father had agreed with ill-grace. The fun had soon worn off, but Joe
had kept on with the work long after his chum, who had embarked in
the enterprise with him, had given up. It didn’t bring in much money,
and Joe didn’t need what it did bring, since his father was lavishly
generous in the matter of pocket-money. It was principally the fact
that his father had predicted that he would soon tire of it that kept
him doggedly at it when the cold weather came. Getting up before light
and tramping through snow and slush to toss twisted-up papers into
doorways soon became the veriest drudgery to the fourteen-year-old boy,
and only pride prevented him from crying quits. When, finally, wet
boots and continual sniffling caused his mother to put her foot down
Joe was secretly very, very glad!
But delivering newspapers wasn’t the work he wanted now, unless he
could find none other, and, as he went down Main Street just before
noon, his eyes and mind were busy with possibilities. To find a
position as a clerk was out of the question, since he wouldn’t be able
to work during the busiest hours. Some labor that he might perform
after school in the afternoon and during the evening was what he hoped
to find. And so, as he passed a store or an office, he considered
its possibilities. He paused for several minutes in front of one of
the big windows of Miller and Tappen’s Department Store, but finally
went on with a shake of his head. If it had been before instead of
after the holidays he might have found employment there as an extra
hand in the wrapping or shipping department, but now they would
more likely be turning help away than taking it on. A drug store on
the corner engaged his attention next, and then a brilliantly red
hardware store across the street, a hardware store that evidently
did a large business in athletic goods if one was to judge by the
attractive display in one broad window. But Joe couldn’t think of any
position in one or the other that he could apply for. Further along,
a handsome new twelve-story structure was nearing completion, and he
stopped awhile to watch operations. It was the only “skyscraper”
in sight and consequently stuck up above the surrounding five- and
six-story edifices like, to use Joe’s metaphor, a sore thumb! It was
a fine-looking building, though, and he found himself feeling a civic
pride in it, quite as though he was already a settled citizen of the
town. Well, for that matter, he told himself, he guessed Amesville
wasn’t such a bad place, after all, and if only he could find a
job that would bring him in enough to pay Aunt Sarah for board and
lodging――――
But at that moment the noon whistle blew, a bell struck twelve
somewhere and Joe turned back toward Brewer Street. Aunt Sarah had
enjoined him to be back before half-past twelve, which was dinner time,
and he recalled her assertion that she disliked having folks tardy at
meals. So his search for employment must wait until later.
His walking had made him hungry again and he viewed veal chops
smothered with tomato sauce and the riced potatoes piled high in the
blue dish and the lima beans beside it with vast approval. There was a
generous plate of graham bread, too, and a pyramid of grape jelly that
swayed every time Amanda crossed the floor. He satisfied Aunt Sarah’s
curiosity as to the interview with the high school principal while
satisfying his own appetite. Aunt Sarah said “Hmph!” and that she’d
heard tell Mr. Dennison was a very competent principal. Thereupon she
went into the past history of the Amesville High School and its heads,
and Joe, diligently addressing himself to the viands, told himself that
his Aunt Sarah seemed astonishingly well informed on the subject. Later
he discovered that Aunt Sarah was well informed on most subjects and
that when it came to town news she was better than a paper!
“I had Amanda bake an apple pudding,” she informed him presently, when
his appetite began to languish. “I guess boys usually like something
sweet to top off with. Do you eat apple pudding?”
“Yes, Aunt. Most any kind of pudding. But don’t you――don’t you go to
any trouble about me, please. I――I can eat whatever there is. I’ve got
a fine old appetite.”
“Hmph! Well, I guess you won’t go hungry here. Not that I intend to
have things much different from usual, though. I don’t hold with
humouring folks’ notions about food. Food is food, I say, so long’s
it’s nourishing and decently cooked. Your mother, though, was always a
great one for strange, outlandish dishes and I suppose you’ll miss ’em.
Well, all I can say is plain food’s what I was brought up on and I’ve
never seen anyone hurt none by eatin’ it. I’ve noticed that folks who
like messed-up dishes generally have dyspepsia and are always doctoring
themselves. Amanda, bring in the pudding.”
Aunt Sarah seemed slightly surprised when, the apple pudding partaken
of, Joe announced that he thought he’d go and have a look around town.
“Well,” she said, “you’re old enough to look after yourself, I suppose,
but for goodness’ sake, don’t go and get run over or anything! Main
Street’s getting to be something awful, what with these automobiles
and all. Seems like a body just has to take his life in his hands when
he goes there nowadays. If those awful things don’t run you down they
scare you to death, and if they can’t do any worse to you they spatter
you with mud. Gracious sakes, I haven’t dared shop on the other side of
Main Street for ’most a year!”
Joe didn’t confide to her his real errand, just why he didn’t exactly
know. Perhaps he had a dim notion that Aunt Sarah wouldn’t approve of
his engaging in work that might keep him away from home at strange
hours of the day or night. She watched his departure doubtfully from
the front door and when he was almost to the corner of the next street
called after him to go to Rice and Perry’s and get himself a pair of
overshoes. “Tell Mr. Perry they’re to be charged to me, and see that he
gives them to you big enough. If you don’t watch him he’ll fit you too
snug and then they’ll wear out right away!”
Joe didn’t obey instructions, however. Somehow he wasn’t yet ready
to become indebted to Aunt Sarah, and, besides, he didn’t need
overshoes to get around today. His boots were heavy-soled and as nearly
waterproof as any “guaranteed waterproof” boots ever are. During the
afternoon he made several inquiries for work. A photographer declined
his offer to do errands after three o’clock in the afternoon, a
haberdasher failed to discern the benefits to accrue――to him――from
giving employment to the applicant, and four other merchants of
different trades answered to similar effect. Just before dusk Joe
sought the office of the Amesville _Recorder_.