When Cory secured a place as dish-wiper at a new boarding-house near,
and Gus realized that he and Iry alone were dependent upon the others
for their keep, shame seared his young soul. He had vainly tried to
secure steady employment, but had succeeded only in getting occasional
odd jobs. He had a distinct leaning towards an agricultural life and
coveted the care of cows.

"The grocer has sold his'n," he lugubriously lamented; "thar ain't no
one else as wants a caretaker for their critters around here."

After a long rumination on the discouraging problem of his future, he
sought his confessor, the corner grocer.

"I'm too big to peddle papers or be runnin' about with telergrafs," he
declared. "I'd orter be goin' into business on my own account. I ain't
goin' ter be allers workin' fer other folks."

"Well, you'll have to wait a while before you can work for yourself,"
counselled his confidant. "You are young yet."

"This is a hurry-up age," was the sagacious assertion, "and ef you air
agoin' to git any-whar, you've got ter go by wire instead of by mail,
and you can't start too soon."

"You can't start nothing without capital," argued the grocer
conservatively.

"Oh," admitted the young financier, "a little capital mebby. I've got a
dollar I've saved up from odd jobs."