The effect of this particular conclusion was to cause Clyde to think harder than ever about himself. And theprincipal result of his thinking was that he must do something for himself and soon. Up to this time the best hehad been able to do was to work at such odd jobs as befall all boys between their twelfth and fifteenth years:

　　assisting a man who had a paper route during the summer months of one year, working in the basement of a fiveand-ten-cent store all one summer long, and on Saturdays, for a period during the winter, opening boxes andunpacking goods, for which he received the munificent sum of five dollars a week, a sum which at the timeseemed almost a fortune. He felt himself rich and, in the face of the opposition of his parents, who were opposedto the theater and motion pictures also, as being not only worldly, but sinful, he could occasionally go to one oranother of those--in the gallery--a form of diversion which he had to conceal from his parents. Yet that did notdeter him. He felt that he had a right to go with his own money; also to take his younger brother Frank, who wasglad enough to go with him and say nothing.

　　Later in the same year, wishing to get out of school because he already felt himself very much belated in therace, he secured a place as an assistant to a soda water clerk in one of the cheaper drug stores of the city, whichadjoined a theater and enjoyed not a little patronage of this sort. A sign--"Boy Wanted"--since it was directly onhis way to school, first interested him. Later, in conversation with the young man whose assistant he was to be,and from whom he was to learn the trade, assuming that he was sufficiently willing and facile, he gathered that ifhe mastered this art, he might make as much as fifteen and even eighteen dollars a week. It was rumored thatStroud's at the corner of 14th and Baltimore streets paid that much to two of their clerks. The particular store towhich he was applying paid only twelve, the standard salary of most places.

　　But to acquire this art, as he was now informed, required time and the friendly help of an expert. If he wished tocome here and work for five to begin with--well, six, then, since his face fell--he might soon expect to know agreat deal about the art of mixing sweet drinks and decorating a large variety of ice creams with liquid sweets,thus turning them into sundaes. For the time being apprenticeship meant washing and polishing all the machineryand implements of this particular counter, to say nothing of opening and sweeping out the store at so early anhour as seven-thirty, dusting, and delivering such orders as the owner of this drug store chose to send out by him.

　　At such idle moments as his immediate superior--a Mr. Sieberling--twenty, dashing, self-confident, talkative,was too busy to fill all the orders, he might be called upon to mix such minor drinks--lemonades, Coca-Colas and the like-- as the trade demanded.

　　Yet this interesting position, after due consultation with his mother, he decided to take. For one thing, it wouldprovide him, as he suspected, with all the ice-cream sodas he desired, free--an advantage not to be disregarded.

　　In the next place, as he saw it at the time, it was an open door to a trade--something which he lacked. Further,and not at all disadvantageously as he saw it, this store required his presence at night as late as twelve o'clock,with certain hours off during the day to compensate for this. And this took him out of his home at night--out ofthe ten-o'clock-boy class at last. They could not ask him to attend any meetings save on Sunday, and not eventhen, since he was supposed to work Sunday afternoons and evenings.

　　Next, the clerk who manipulated this particular soda fountain, quite regularly received passes from the managerof the theater next door, and into the lobby of which one door to the drug store gave--a most fascinatingconnection to Clyde. It seemed so interesting to be working for a drug store thus intimately connected with atheater.

　　And best of all, as Clyde now found to his pleasure, and yet despair at times, the place was visited, just beforeand after the show on matinee days, by bevies of girls, single and en suite, who sat at the counter and giggled andchattered and gave their hair and their complexions last perfecting touches before the mirror. And Clyde, callowand inexperienced in the ways of the world, and those of the opposite sex, was never weary of observing thebeauty, the daring, the self-sufficiency and the sweetness of these, as he saw them. For the first time in his life,while he busied himself with washing glasses, filling the ice-cream and syrup containers, arranging the lemonsand oranges in the trays, he had an almost uninterrupted opportunity of studying these girls at close range. Thewonder of them! For the most part, they were so well-dressed and smart-looking--the rings, pins, furs, delightfulhats, pretty shoes they wore. And so often he overheard them discussing such interesting things--parties, dances,dinners, the shows they had seen, the places in or near Kansas City to which they were soon going, the differencebetween the styles of this year and last, the fascination of certain actors and actresses--principally actors--whowere now playing or soon coming to the city. And to this day, in his own home he had heard nothing of all this.

　　And very often one or another of these young beauties was accompanied by some male in evening suit, dressshirt, high hat, bow tie, white kid gloves and patent leather shoes, a costume which at that time Clyde felt to bethe last word in all true distinction, beauty, gallantry and bliss. To be able to wear such a suit with such ease andair! To be able to talk to a girl after the manner and with the sang-froid of some of these gallants! what a truemeasure of achievement! No good-looking girl, as it then appeared to him, would have anything to do with himif he did not possess this standard of equipment. It was plainly necessary--the thing. And once he did attain it-wasable to wear such clothes as these--well, then was he not well set upon the path that leads to all the blisses?

　　All the joys of life would then most certainly be spread before him. The friendly smiles! The secret handclasps,maybe--an arm about the waist of some one or another--a kiss--a promise of marriage--and then, and then!

　　And all this as a revealing flash after all the years of walking through the streets with his father and mother topublic prayer meeting, the sitting in chapel and listening to queer and nondescript individuals--depressing anddisconcerting people--telling how Christ had saved them and what God had done for them. You bet he wouldget out of that now. He would work and save his money and be somebody. Decidedly this simple and yet idylliccompound of the commonplace had all the luster and wonder of a spiritual transfiguration, the true mirage of thelost and thirsting and seeking victim of the desert.

　　However, the trouble with this particular position, as time speedily proved, was that much as it might teach himof mixing drinks and how to eventually earn twelve dollars a week, it was no immediate solvent for theyearnings and ambitions that were already gnawing at his vitals. For Albert Sieberling, his immediate superior,was determined to keep as much of his knowledge, as well as the most pleasant parts of the tasks, to himself.

　　And further he was quite at one with the druggist for whom they worked in thinking that Clyde, in addition toassisting him about the fountain, should run such errands as the druggist desired, which kept Clyde industriouslyemployed for nearly all the hours he was on duty.

　　Consequently there was no immediate result to all this. Clyde could see no way to dressing better than he did.

　　Worse, he was haunted by the fact that he had very little money and very few contacts and connections--so fewthat, outside his own home, he was lonely and not so very much less than lonely there. The flight of Esta hadthrown a chill over the religious work there, and because, as yet, she had not returned--the family, as he nowheard, was thinking of breaking up here and moving, for want of a better idea, to Denver, Colorado. But Clyde,by now, was convinced that he did not wish to accompany them. What was the good of it, he asked himself?

　　There would be just another mission there, the same as this one.

　　He had always lived at home--in the rooms at the rear of the mission in Bickel Street, but he hated it. And sincehis eleventh year, during all of which time his family had been residing in Kansas City, he had been ashamed tobring boy friends to or near it. For that reason he had always avoided boy friends, and had walked and playedvery much alone--or with his brother and sisters.

　　But now that he was sixteen and old enough to make his own way, he ought to be getting out of this. And yet hewas earning almost nothing--not enough to live on, if he were alone--and he had not as yet developed sufficientskill or courage to get anything better.

　　Nevertheless when his parents began to talk of moving to Denver, and suggested that he might secure work outthere, never assuming for a moment that he would not want to go he began to throw out hints to the effect that itmight he better if he did not. He liked Kansas City. What was the use of changing? He had a job now and hemight get something better. But his parents, bethinking themselves of Esta and the fate that had overtaken her,were not a little dubious as to the outcome of such early adventuring on his part alone. Once they were away,where would he live? With whom? What sort of influence would enter his life, who would be at hand to aid andcouncil and guide him in the straight and narrow path, as they had done? It was something to think about.

　　But spurred by this imminence of Denver, which now daily seemed to be drawing nearer, and the fact that notlong after this Mr. Sieberling, owing to his too obvious gallantries in connection with the fair sex, lost his placein the drug store, and Clyde came by a new and bony and chill superior who did not seem to want him as anassistant, he decided to quit--not at once, but rather to see, on such errands as took him out of the store, if hecould not find something else. Incidentally in so doing, looking here and there, he one day thought he wouldspeak to the manager of the fountain which was connected with the leading drug store in the principal hotel ofthe city--the latter a great twelve-story affair, which represented, as he saw it, the quintessence of luxury andease. Its windows were always so heavily curtained; the main entrance (he had never ventured to look beyondthat) was a splendiferous combination of a glass and iron awning, coupled with a marble corridor lined withpalms. Often he had passed here, wondering with boyish curiosity what the nature of the life of such a place might be. Before its doors, so many taxis and automobiles were always in waiting.

　　To-day, being driven by the necessity of doing something for himself, he entered the drug store which occupiedthe principal corner, facing 14th Street at Baltimore, and finding a girl cashier in a small glass cage near the door,asked of her who was in charge of the soda fountain. Interested by his tentative and uncertain manner, as well ashis deep and rather appealing eyes, and instinctively judging that he was looking for something to do, sheobserved: "Why, Mr. Secor, there, the manager of the store." She nodded in the direction of a short, meticulouslydressed man of about thirty-five, who was arranging an especial display of toilet novelties on the top of a glasscase. Clyde approached him, and being still very dubious as to how one went about getting anything in life, andfinding him engrossed in what he was doing, stood first on one foot and then on the other, until at last, sensingsome one was hovering about for something, the man turned: "Well?" he queried.

　　"You don't happen to need a soda fountain helper, do you?" Clyde cast at him a glance that said as plain asanything could, "If you have any such place, I wish you would please give it to me. I need it.""No, no, no," replied this individual, who was blond and vigorous and by nature a little irritable and contentious.

　　He was about to turn away, but seeing a flicker of disappointment and depression pass over Clyde's face, heturned and added, "Ever work in a place like this before?""No place as fine as this. No, sir," replied Clyde, rather fancifully moved by all that was about him. "I'm workingnow down at Mr. Klinkle's store at 7th and Brooklyn, but it isn't anything like this one and I'd like to getsomething better if I could.""Uh," went on his interviewer, rather pleased by the innocent tribute to the superiority of his store. "Well, that'sreasonable enough. But there isn't anything here right now that I could offer you. We don't make many changes.

　　But if you'd like to be a bell-boy, I can tell you where you might get a place. They're looking for an extra boy inthe hotel inside there right now. The captain of the boys was telling me he was in need of one. I should think thatwould be as good as helping about a soda fountain, any day."Then seeing Clyde's face suddenly brighten, he added: "But you mustn't say that I sent you, because I don't knowyou. Just ask for Mr. Squires inside there, under the stairs, and he can tell you all about it."At the mere mention of work in connection with so imposing an institution as the Green-Davidson, and thepossibility of his getting it, Clyde first stared, felt himself tremble the least bit with excitement, then thanking hisadvisor for his kindness, went direct to a green-marbled doorway which opened from the rear of this drug-storeinto the lobby of the hotel. Once through it, he beheld a lobby, the like of which, for all his years but because ofthe timorous poverty that had restrained him from exploring such a world, was more arresting, quite, thananything he had seen before. It was all so lavish. Under his feet was a checkered black-and-white marble floor.

　　Above him a coppered and stained and gilded ceiling. And supporting this, a veritable forest of black marblecolumns as highly polished as the floor--glassy smooth. And between the columns which ranged away towardthree separate entrances, one right, one left and one directly forward toward Dalrymple Avenue--were lamps,statuary, rugs, palms, chairs, divans, tete-a-tetes--a prodigal display. In short it was compact, of all that gaucheluxury of appointment which, as some one once sarcastically remarked, was intended to supply "exclusiveness tothe masses." Indeed, for an essential hotel in a great and successful American commercial city, it was almost too luxurious. Its rooms and hall and lobbies and restaurants were entirely too richly furnished, without the savinggrace of either simplicity or necessity.

　　As Clyde stood, gazing about the lobby, he saw a large company of people--some women and children, butprincipally men as he could see--either walking or standing about and talking or idling in the chairs, side by sideor alone. And in heavily draped and richly furnished alcoves where were writing-tables, newspaper files, atelegraph office, a haberdasher's shop, and a florist's stand, were other groups. There was a convention of dentistsin the city, not a few of whom, with their wives and children, were gathered here; but to Clyde, who was notaware of this nor of the methods and meanings of conventions, this was the ordinary, everyday appearance ofthis hotel.

　　He gazed about in awe and amazement, then remembering the name of Squires, he began to look for him in hisoffice "under the stairs." To his right was a grand double-winged black-and-white staircase which swung in twoseparate flights and with wide, generous curves from the main floor to the one above. And between these greatflights was evidently the office of the hotel, for there were many clerks there. But behind the nearest flight, andclose to the wall through which he had come, was a tall desk, at which stood a young man of about his own agein a maroon uniform bright with many brass buttons. And on his head was a small, round, pill-box cap, whichwas cocked jauntily over one ear. He was busy making entries with a lead pencil in a book which lay open beforehim. Various other boys about his own age, and uniformed as he was, were seated upon a long bench near him,or were to be seen darting here and there, sometimes, returning to this one with a slip of paper or a key or note ofsome kind, and then seating themselves upon the bench to await another call apparently, which seemed to comeswiftly enough. A telephone upon the small desk at which stood the uniformed youth was almost constantlybuzzing, and after ascertaining what was wanted, this youth struck a small bell before him, or called "front," towhich the first boy on the bench, responded. Once called, they went hurrying up one or the other stairs or towardone of the several entrances or elevators, and almost invariably were to be seen escorting individuals whose bagsand suitcases and overcoats and golf sticks they carried. There were others who disappeared and returned,carrying drinks on trays or some package or other, which they were taking to one of the rooms above. Plainlythis was the work that he should be called upon to do, assuming that he would be so fortunate as to connecthimself with such an institution as this.

　　And it was all so brisk and enlivening that he wished that he might be so fortunate as to secure a position here.

　　But would he be? And where was Mr. Squires? He approached the youth at the small desk: "Do you know whereI will find Mr. Squires?" he asked.

　　"Here he comes now," replied the youth, looking up and examining Clyde with keen, gray eyes.

　　Clyde gazed in the direction indicated, and saw approaching a brisk and dapper and decidedly sophisticated-looking person of perhaps twenty-nine or thirty years of age. He was so very slender, keen, hatchet-faced andwell-dressed that Clyde was not only impressed but overawed at once--a very shrewd and cunning-lookingperson. His nose was so long and thin, his eyes so sharp, his lips thin, and chin pointed.

　　"Did you see that tall, gray-haired man with the Scotch plaid shawl who went through here just now?" he pausedto say to his assistant at the desk. The assistant nodded. "Well, they tell me that's the Earl of Landreil. He just came in this morning with fourteen trunks and four servants. Can you beat it! He's somebody in Scotland. Thatisn't the name he travels under, though, I hear. He's registered as Mr. Blunt. Can you beat that English stuff?

　　They can certainly lay on the class, eh?""You said it!" replied his assistant deferentially.

　　He turned for the first time, glimpsing Clyde, but paying no attention to him. His assistant came to Clyde's aid.

　　"That young fella there is waiting to see you," he explained.

　　"You want to see me?" queried the captain of the bellhops, turning to Clyde, and observing his none-too-goodclothes, at the same time making a comprehensive study of him.

　　"The gentleman in the drug store," began Clyde, who did not quite like the looks of the man before him, but wasdetermined to present himself as agreeably as possible, "was saying--that is, he said that I might ask you if therewas any chance here for me as a bell-boy. I'm working now at Klinkle's drug store at 7th and Brooklyn, as ahelper, but I'd like to get out of that and he said you might--that is--he thought you had a place open now."Clyde was so flustered and disturbed by the cool, examining eyes of the man before him that he could scarcelyget his breath properly, and swallowed hard.

　　For the first time in his life, it occurred to him that if he wanted to get on he ought to insinuate himself into thegood graces of people--do or say something that would make them like him. So now he contrived an eager,ingratiating smile, which he bestowed on Mr. Squires, and added: "If you'd like to give me a chance, I'd try veryhard and I'd be very willing."The man before him merely looked at him coldly, but being the soul of craft and self-acquisitiveness in a pettyway, and rather liking anybody who had the skill and the will to be diplomatic, he now put aside an impulse toshake his head negatively, and observed: "But you haven't had any training in this work.""No, sir, but couldn't I pick it up pretty quick if I tried hard?""Well, let me see," observed the head of the bell-hops, scratching his head dubiously. "I haven't any time to talkto you now. Come around Monday afternoon. I'll see you then." He turned on his heel and walked away.

　　Clyde, left alone in this fashion, and not knowing just what it meant, stared, wondering. Was it really true that hehad been invited to come back on Monday? Could it be possible that--He turned and hurried out, thrilling fromhead to toe. The idea! He had asked this man for a place in the very finest hotel in Kansas City and he had askedhim to come back and see him on Monday. Gee! what would that mean? Could it be possible that he would beadmitted to such a grand world as this--and that so speedily? Could it really be?