Later_--

"I got interrupted here. The boys wanted me to play 'high-five' until
train-time; I picked up a little 'perfumery money,' and came up here to
Kansas City to spend Saturday night and Sunday.

"There 's a lot of 'rummies' I used to know hanging around here,
'broke.' They 've all 'got their hand out.' One of them made me a
talk last night for enough to get to St. Louis on--said he 'must get
there.'

"'Well,' I says, 'try the trucks; how are you on swinging under?'

"'Yes,' he says, 'you're in luck, and makin' a swell front, with your
noisy duds and plenty of money, but it's a wonder you would n't 'let
your blood gush' a little when you see an old friend of yours in
trouble.'

"That was a new one on me, and I 'loosened.' Well, perhaps he 'll do
me a good turn some time.

"Now, I must close. I see dinner's ready. There's a big, fat guy has
been beating me out in a race for a seat I want in the dining-room. I
'll 'put it over him a neck' to-day for the chair. The cross-eyed
fairy that waits on that table can dig up cream while the rest of the
waitresses are looking around to see if there 's any skimmed milk in
the joint.

"Yours till death--and as long after as they need me at the morgue.

"EDWARD CAMPBELL."

Occasionally I met Richmond and asked him how Checkers was doing. "Not
badly," was the usual answer. "He is handicapped, though," explained
Richmond one day, "by not thoroughly knowing our goods and those of
other houses. After this trip I shall put him to work in the store
again for a while."

But this never occurred. Either by mistake or through a serious error
in judgment, Checkers sold an unusually large bill at an absurdly low
figure. This brought a sharp reproof from the house, which he answered
cavalierly. His recall and prompt dismissal followed.

A month elapsed before I saw him. He had been trying to get another
position before coming to me, for his pride was lowered. One morning
he came in looking careworn and threadbare. I welcomed him cordially,
as usual. But though neither of us referred to his recent misfortune,
it caused an evident embarrassment in his manner. After a few moments'
desultory conversation he drew a letter from his pocket. "Read that,"
he said simply, handing it to me. With difficulty I read what seemed
to be a letter from Mr. Barlow, his father-in-law. In effect it set
forth that he was now alone. Mrs. Barlow was dead, and her last dying
req