We were
schoolfellows together, and just the same age, that is, nearly--
he was born in April, and I in May. Well, we began at the
same time on the same salary. Now I get sixty dollars a week
and he only twelve--and he is glad to get that, too."
"I suppose he hasn't much business capacity."
"That's where you've struck it, Luke. He knows about
enough to be clerk in a country store--and I suppose he'll fetch
up there some day. You know what that means--selling sugar,
and tea, and dried apples to old ladies, and occasionally measuring
off a yard of calico, or selling a spool of cotton. If I couldn't
do better than that I'd hire out as a farm laborer."
Luke smiled at the enumeration of the duties of a country salesman.
It was clear that Mr. Coleman, though he looked city-bred, must
at some time in the past have lived in the country.
"Perhaps that is the way I should turn out," he said.
"I might not rise any higher than your friend Mr. Bolton."
"Oh, yes, you would. You're smart enough, I'll guarantee.
You might not get on so fast as I have, for it isn't every young
man of twenty-six that can command four thousand dollars a
year, but you would rise to a handsome income, I am sure.
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