Love stories; Success -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Youth -- Fiction
A review of these brief and discouraging annals did not hearten him; but
he fell back upon the better mood with which he had begun the morning;
he had a new chance, and he proposed to make the best of it. He put
aside his coat and hat, lighted the pipe which he had been holding in
his hand, and opened his desk. The banker had sent up the combination of
the safe, as he had promised, and Saxton began inspecting its contents
and putting his office in order.
"I'm in for a long stay," he reflected. "Watson and Terrell and those
other fellows are just about reaching Park Street, perhaps with virtuous
thoughts of having given me a job, if they haven't forgotten me. It's
probably a pleasant day in Boston, with the flowers looking their best
in the Gardens; but this is better than my Wyoming pastures, anyhow."
The books and papers began to interest him, and he was soon classifying
the properties that had fallen to his care. He was one of those
fortunate individuals who are endowed with a capacity for complete
absorption in the work at hand,--the frequent possession of persons,
who, like Saxton, enjoy immunity from visits of the alluring
will-o'-the-wisps that beguile geniuses. He was so deeply occupied that
he did not mark the flight of time and was surprised when a boy came
with a message from Porter that he was ready to go to luncheon.
"Yon mustn't overdo the thing, young man," said the banker amiably, as
he closed his desk. "Don't you adopt our Western method of working all
the hours there are. I do it now because my neighbors and customers
would talk about me if I didn't, and say that I had lost my grip in my
old age."
They started up the sloping street, which was intensely hot.
"In my last job I worked twenty hours a day," said Saxton, "and lost
money in spite of it."
"You mean up in Wyoming; the Neponset people wrote me that you were a
reformed cattleman."
"Yes, I was winter-killed at the business." He assumed that Porter would
not care particularly for the details of his failure. Western men are,
he knew, much more tolerant of failure than Eastern men; but he was
relieved to hear the banker drawling on with a comment on Clarkson, its
commercial history and prospects.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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