But there were other ways of "gettin' by" as well, though not nearly so prevalent as preaching. It was in quest of such a way, no doubt, that Slim came to the office that day. Wyeth had become acquainted with him while canvassing during the winter. He was, at that time, employed in a grocery store as man of much work, a part of which consisted in driving a little black mule about the streets, before a wagon in which he delivered groceries. They had become friends, and Slim was, in the opinion of Wyeth, an original and sociable being also. He had informed Wyeth that music was his line; singing schools he claimed to have conducted with great success. So, during the summer and spring months, and some time into the fall, he carried the title of professor. And it was as such, that Wyeth welcomed him that day. "Hello, Professor," he greeted him cordially, arising from his chair, and grasping the other's hand, with much ostentation. "Professor" was ushered into a seat, where he crossed his long legs with much dignity, and gazed out the window for a moment, without saying other than the return of the greeting. As he sat by the window at that time, it was hard to even _fancy_ his driving a mule in front of a load of groceries. "Ah, my friend," he began, after he had swept the street below with a careful gaze. "I am glad indeed to see you, and to find you occupying such a delightful office." He scanned the office now, with an admiring gaze, and went on: "You are sure fixed up in great style, just grand, grand!" "Oh, fair," Sidney admitted carelessly. "I am, however, glad you dropped in, for I have been thinking about you for some time." "I am honored," said the other, with an elevation of the eyebrows. "Yes," resumed Sidney, with a serious and thoughtful expression, "it has always been my opinion, that a man with the bearing and dignity you obviously possess, could be much more in keeping with society, in a position that would employ such a wealth of ability." Slim did not make immediate answer to this, for the simple reason that he was too flushed with vanity by the words, to do other than color to the roots of his hair, and swallow. "When I see a man like you carrying groceries up the back way of a house, let me tell you, Professor," Wyeth said flatteringly, "I can't help, in a measure, but feel despair for our race; but I was told by a very responsible party, that your health required such an expedient." Slim was then in the seventh Heaven of vanity, and looked away to hide the tears of gratitude, he felt toward the man who had courage sufficiently to admit what he himself felt. He admired Sidney Wyeth on the spot.