"Not at all," says he. "Merely petty annoyances, thorns and pebbles in the pathways that lead to each high emprise." Say, it was almost like hearin' some one read po'try, listenin' to Tutwater talk; didn't mean much of anything, and sounded kind of good. At the end of half an hour I didn't know any more about his game than at the beginning. I gathered, though, that up to date it hadn't produced any ready cash, and that Tutwater had been on his uppers for some time. He was no grafter, though. That dollar twenty-five weighed heavier on his mind than it did on mine. He'd come in and talk about not bein' able to pay it back real regretful, without even hintin' at another touch. And little by little I got more light on Tutwater, includin' some details of what he called his career. There was a lot to it, so far as variety went. He'd been a hist'ry professor in some one-horse Western college, had tried his luck once up at Nome, had canvassed for a patent dishwasher through Michigan, done a ballyhoo trick outside a travelin' tent show, and had given bump lectures on the schoolhouse circuit. But his prize stunt was when he broke into the real estate business and laid out Eucalyptus City. That was out in Iowa somewhere, and he'd have cleaned up a cool million in money if the blamed trolley company hadn't built their line seven miles off in the other direction. It was gettin' this raw deal that convinces him the seed district wa'n't any place for a gent of his abilities. So he sold out his options on the site of Eucalyptus to a brick makin' concern, and beat it for 42d-st. with a capital of eighty-nine dollars cash and this great director scheme in his head. The brass plate had cost him four dollars and fifty cents, one month's rent of the upstairs coop had set him back thirty more, and he'd been livin' on the rest. "But look here, Tutty," says I, "just what sort of enterprise do you think you can direct?" "Any sort," says he, "anything, from running an international exposition, to putting an icecream parlor on a paying basis." "Don't you find your modesty something of a handicap?" says I. "Oh, I'm modest enough," he goes on. "For instance, I don't claim to invent new methods. I just adapt, pick out lines of proved success, and develop. Now, your business here--why, I could take hold of it, and in six months' time I'd have you occupying this entire building, with classes on every floor, a solarium on the roof, a corps of assistants working day and night shifts, and----" "Yes," I breaks in, "and then the Sheriff tackin' a foreclosure notice on the front door. I know how them boom methods work out, Tutty." But talk like that don't discourage Tutwater at all. He hangs onto his great scheme, keepin' his eyes and ears open, writin' letters when he can scare up money for postage, and insistin' that sooner or later he'll get his chance. "Here is the place for such chances to occur," says he, "and I know what I can do."