“Now you must continue to study our work. Discover what you want to do; then make sure it is what you really want. Then try to convince yourself that it isn't. When you know, tell me. Do you want more money?” “Yes, I do, but I won't take it,” answered Tommy, very quickly. “Very well,” said Mr. Thompson, regarding the incident as closed. Tommy was perfectly sincere in his resolve not to accept unearned money. Nevertheless, he felt a little disappointed at Mr. Thompson's prompt acquiescence. Then Tommy realized more than ever that the joy of telling the truth is in the instant acceptance of the truth by your hearers. It is what makes it important for words to mean the same thing in all minds at all times. If “no” always meant “no” there would be much less trouble in this world. Tommy resolved to find out which part of the business appealed to him the most, and then he would tell Mr. Thompson. Then there would be more money to send home every week. He had sent so little! But he had paid off the fifty dollars he borrowed to pay for his transportation to Dayton. “Where do you live?” asked Mr. Thompson. Tommy told him; told him all about Mrs. Clayton and all about Bill and Bill's carburetor mania. When Mr. Thompson spoke it was not to refer to anything that Tommy had said. “Don't know much about the selling end of the business, do you?” he asked. “No, sir.'' “Would you LIke to learn? Think before you speak.” Tommy thought. At length he said, “Yes, I would, very much.” “Think you'd like it?” Tommy's habit of being honest made him discover that he could not answer either yes or no truthfully. So he decided, as usual when in doubt, to tell the truth. Better to be considered an ass than a liar--easier and safer. “I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking that in the shop I can learn only what a mechanic thinks of the product, and what the shipping departments think of moving it away. What the buyer thinks, I don't know. So I don't know whether I'd like to be a salesman.” “They get good money. You'd like that. Think again before you answer.” Tommy thought. To him money meant only one thing: Not what one hundred thousand dollars, for instance, might buy for him, but what seventeen thousand dollars--no more, no less--would do for his soul's peace. He answered Mr. Thompson slowly: “I don't know which is the greater pleasure--doing work you really love for fair pay, or making more money out of work you neither like nor dislike. I--I don't know, Mr. Thompson,” he finished, and looked at his chief dubiously. Mr. Thompson stared into space. “That's so,” he said at last, in a perfunctory way. Tommy felt he had hit no bull's-eye, but he was neither sorry nor angry. He bethought himself of his bedroom, where he could do his thinking unstimulated and undepressed. He arose and said: “I've had a very nice time, Mr. Thompson, and you don't know how grateful I am to you, sir.”