e, Mr. Pepper," says I, "that
don't know when to fade. They're just grouchy because I've swiped the
job."

I was lookin' for him to sit up at that; but he don't. "What makes you
think that you've got it!" says he.

"'Cause I'm in and they're out," says I. "Anyway, they're a lot of
dopes, and a man like you wants a live one around. That's me. Where do I
begin?" And I chucks the sign into a waste basket and hangs my cap on a
hook.

Now, that ain't any system you can follow reg'lar. I don't often do it
that way, 'cause I ain't any fonder of bein' thrown through a door than
the next one. But this was a long shot and I was willin' to run the
risk. That fat headed starter knew he was steerin' me up against a mob;
so I was just achin' to squeeze the lemon in his eye by makin' good.

For awhile, though, I couldn't tell whether I was up in a balloon or let
in on the ground floor. Mr. Pepper was givin' me the search warrant
look-over, and I see he's one of these gents that you can't jar easy. I
hadn't rushed him off his feet by my through the center play. There was
still plenty of chance of my gettin' the low tackle.

"If I might ask," says he, smooth as a silk lid, "what is your name?"

"Ah, w'at's the use?" says I, duckin' my head. "Look at that hair! You
might's well begin callin' me Torchy; you'd come to it."

He didn't grin nor nothin'; but only I see his eyes wrinkle a little at
the corners. "Very well, Torchy," says he. "I suppose you have your
references?"

"Nah, I ain't," says I. "But if you're stuck on such things I can get
'em. There's a feller down on Ann-st. that'll write beauts for a quarter
a throw."

"So?" says he. "Then we'll pass that point. Why did you leave your last
place?"

"By request," says I. "The stiff gives me the fire. He said I was too
fresh."

"He was mistaken, I suppose," says Mr. Pepper. "You're not fresh, are
you?"

"Well say, I ain't no last year's limed egg," says I. "If you're lookin'
for somethin' that's been in the brine all winter, you'd better put the
hook in again."

He rubs his chin at that. "Do you like hard work?" says he.

"Think I'd be chasin' up an office boy snap, if I did?" says I.

He takes a minute or so to let that soak in, knockin' his cigar ashes
off on the rug in that careless way a man that ain't married does, and
then he springs another.

"I presume that if you were left alone in the office occasionally," says
he, "you could learn to run the business?"