Becket's advice, and that morning
called at the American hotel, which was the first one I came to.
Quite boldly, for a green boy, I approached the person whom I was
told was the proprietor and asked him if he had any work for a
boy, whereupon he looked at me in what seemed a most scornful way
and said very tartly:
"What kind of work do you think you could do?"
I told him I could do most anything in the way of common labor.
He gave me another half-scornful smile and said:
"I think you had better go home to your parents and go to school.
That's the best place for you."
This was discouraging, but instead of explaining my position, I
turned to go, and in spite of all that I could do the tears came
to my eyes. Not that I cared so much for being refused employment,
but for the manner in which the hotel man had spoken to me. I did
not propose to give up at that, but started away, more than ever
determined to find employment. I did not want to impose on the
Beckets, notwithstanding that they still assured me of welcome,
and moreover I wished to do something to help them, even more than
myself.
I had nearly reached the door when a man who had been reading a
newspaper, but was now observing me, called out:
"My boy! come here."
I went over to the corner where he was sitting and I was trying at
the same time to dry away my tears.
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