I wonder if clerks realize how often the Boss has to work when he feels sick? Most bosses, I guess, have that feeling of responsibility for the business and the employees that I always have had, and that keeps them working when they'd be at home if they didn't have that responsibility. I remember one of the fellows who worked with me at Barlow's used to complain that Barlow got all the profit, while we got all the work--and I agreed with him at the time, poor fool that I was. We never thought that Barlow had all his money invested in the business that was providing us with a certain living. We never stopped to think that we were sure to get our money every week, whatever happened, but that Barlow had to take a chance on anything that was left. We never thought about the worry and responsibility. I don't want to forget the workers' side of a business deal, but I never realized so much as I did then how unjust most employees are to their boss. I know many bosses are unjust to their employees and perhaps the boss is principally to blame for it, but just take my case: There was Jones threatened with a cold, so he stayed home when he could have been working just as well as not. He knew he was going to get his money on Saturday, anyway. But I was so sick I could hardly think logically; and I had to go down to the store and work. Stigler had put on a big sale of Christmas novelties. He had bought a lot of indoor parlor games. I hadn't bought any of those; and he had a line of calendars and Christmas cards. I had never thought of putting them in. The drug store had a big stock of them, though. Stigler was advertising extensively and was pretty busy at both the five-and-ten-cent store and at the hardware store opposite. He seemed to be doing more business than usual. Since we had had the scrap in the Élite Restaurant he had been quite polite, but somehow I feared him more than ever before. He seemed to have a cold hatred of me, and he was always going out of his way to spoil any adventure in special sales that I made. Toys had been going very slowly with me. I had wanted to get Fellows of the Flaxon Advertising Agency to write up some ads on toys for me, but he was in the hospital, being operated on for appendicitis. I didn't know what to do. As soon as she received the Mater's letter Aunt Hannah had telegraphed, saying she'd be delighted to have Betty visit her, and asking if I couldn't come as well. Of course I could not go, but the doctor said that Betty was well enough to travel, so it was decided that the Mater should go down with her to stay for a week or so while I looked after the house. I planned to have all my meals at the Élite Restaurant. The day after they left I was so ill that I had to spend the whole day in the house. Larsen came around at lunch time and said he'd written up an ad on toys and had put it in the papers. "We can't afford any money for ads," I said peevishly.