me to find the
flaw.

"It was with the utmost repugnance that I quit my happy slum life, but I
loved Jim, and it was the call of the ancient clan in my blood. When I
arrived in Pittsburg, without a trunk, and with other marks of the
proletarian on me, Mr. Kirkman, the millionaire tanner, showered me with
every luxury--every luxury except that of thought and true emotion.
Never before did I realise so intensely my indifference to what money
can buy. My private office in the shop was stocked with wines and
imported cigarettes: but I was not so well off as in my happy slum.

"I toiled like a sleepless sisyphus, and one day, in a flash of
intuition, I located and showed the flaw in an obscure process; I was
completely successful.

"I had put no price on my services. For Jim's sake, I had worked like a
Trojan, physically and mentally, for a month. With unlimited money at my
disposal, I had drawn only twenty dollars altogether, and this I sent to
Marie, to keep the wolf away from the Rogues' Gallery, our flat.

"When the factory was running smoothly, I told Mr. Kirkman that I would
break in a man for my place. He made me a tempting offer to take full
charge of the shop. I told him I would not be a participant in
exploiting his 'hands,' who were getting only $7 to $8 a week.
Furthermore, I said I would not stand for the discharge of any man for
incompetency. I had never in the shop met any man I could not teach and
learn something from in return; I had never discharged a man, and never
would. The millionaire boss nevertheless continued to urge me to take
the position, and my brother Jim offered me two thousand dollars' worth
of stock at par and a large yearly salary. Well, I suppose, there's no
use of anybody's trying to move me when Jim has failed.

"I quit Pittsburg with nothing but the price of a ticket to Chicago,
though my brother told me the firm would send me a check for $500 or
$1,000 for my services as an expert. When, with a beating heart, I
returned to my dear Rogues' Gallery, all was change and dispersion. No
more happy times in our little balcony of fellowship, which had
overlooked in its irresponsibility the jarring sects and insects of this
world: the most delightful place in this world to me is a home without a
boss, and this home was for the time gone. The possibility of being
unfair to Marie makes me draw a veil over the cause of the breaking-up
of the Rogues' Gallery.

"Poor Jim found that the firm wo