"Is there-- I wonder if I couldn't send a letter or some flowers or something to your mother?" "Why, yes, I guess there's nothing to prevent.... Boy, you be careful of those boxes! What the deuce do you think you're trying to do? There, that's a little better. Try to show some sense about your work, even if you ain't got any." Edward Pilkings's voice crackled like wood in a fireplace. Desperately Father tried again. "Fact is, Mr. Edward, I've given up my tea-room on Cape Cod. Didn't go so very well. I guess my forty, like the fellow says, is sticking to selling shoes. Mrs. Appleby and I have just got back to town and got settled down and-- Fact is, I'd be glad to go back to work." His hesitant manner invited refusal. It was evident that Mr. Edward Pilkings was not interested. Shyly Father added, "You know your father promised to keep a place open for me." "Well, now, I'll tell you, Appleby; it ain't that you aren't a good salesman, but just _now_ I'm--well, kind of reorganizing the business. I sort of feel the establishment ought to have a little more pep in it, and so-- You see-- But you leave your address and as soon as anything turns up I'll be mighty glad to let you know." For years Father had pityingly heard applicants for jobs disposed of with the request to "leave their addresses." "No," he said; "no, maybe I'll come in and see you again some day. Good day. Good luck to you, Mr. Edward." He greeted his old acquaintances among the clerks. They were cordial, but they kept an eye on Mr. Edward Pilkings. He shivered as he walked out. It was warm and busy in the shoe-store, but outside it was rather chilly for a man with no overcoat--or job. It seemed incredible that he should have found his one place of refuge closed to him. He walked from shoe-store to shoe-store, hopelessly. "Old-fashioned place," the shoe-men said when he mentioned his experience with Pilkings & Son's. "Be glad to do what we can for you, Mr. Appleby, but just now--" He had reached the department-store section. Already the holiday rush had begun. Holly was in the windows; Salvation Army solicitors tinkled irritating bells on every corner. Department stores had always rather bewildered this man of small business, but he inquired for the help-employment bureau in the largest of them, and his shyness disappeared as he found a long line of applicants filling out blanks. Here he did not have to plead with some one man for the chance to work. He was handled quickly and efficiently. On a blank he gave his age, his experience, how much he expected; and a brisk, impersonal clerk told him to return next day. On that next day the world became wonderful for Father, wonderful and young again, for some one did actually want him. He had a temporary holiday-help job in the leather-goods department, at eight dollars a week. * * * * *