aeroplanes
as he had regarding socialism. It seemed that a man who was tremendously
on the inside of aviation--who was, in fact, going to use whole tons of
aeroplane varnish on aeroplane bodies, next month or next season--had
given Mr. Schwirtz secret advices that within five years, by 1913,
aeroplanes would be crossing the Atlantic daily, and conveying
passengers and mail on regular routes between New York and Chicago....
"Though," said Mr. Schwirtz, in a sophisticated way, "I don't agree with
these crazy enthusiasts that believe aeroplanes will be used in war. Too
easy to shoot 'em down." His information was so sound that he had bought
a hundred shares of stock in his customer's company. In on the ground
floor. Stock at three dollars a share. Would be worth two hundred a
share the minute they started regular passenger-carrying.

"But at that, I only took a hundred shares. I don't believe in all this
stock-gambling. What I want is sound, conservative investments," said
Mr. Schwirtz.

"Yes, I should think you'd be awfully practical," mused Una. "My! three
dollars to two hundred! You'll make an awful lot out of it."

"Well, now, I'm not saying anything. I don't pretend to be a
Wisenheimer. May be nine or ten years--nineteen seventeen or nineteen
eighteen--before we are doing a regular business. And at that, the
shares may never go above par. But still, I guess I'm middlin'
practical--not like these socialists, ha, ha!"

"How did you ever get your commercial training?"

The question encouraged him to tell the story of his life.

Mostly it was a story of dates and towns and jobs--jobs he had held and
jobs from which he had resigned, and all the crushing things he had said
to the wicked bosses during those victorious resignings.... Clerk in a
general store, in a clothing-store, in a hardware-store--all these in
Ohio. A quite excusable, almost laudable, failure in his own
hardware-store in a tiny Wisconsin town. Half a dozen clerkships.
Collector for a harvester company in Nebraska, going from farm to farm
by buggy. Traveling salesman for a St. Paul wholesaler, for a Chicago
clothing-house. Married. Partner with his brother-in-law in a drug,
paint, and stationery store. Traveling for a Boston paint-house. For the
Lowry Paint Company of Jersey City. Now with the automobile wax company.
A typical American business career, he remarked, though somehow
distinctive, _different_-- A guiding star--

Una listened murmuringly,