Book-bot.com - read famous books online for free

The Rules of the Game by Stewart Edward White
page 59 of 769 (07%)

His first experience showed him wholly second in natural qualifications,
in ability to learn, and in training to men subordinate in the business
world.

"I'm just plain dub," he told himself. "I thought myself some pumpkins
and got all swelled up inside because good' food and leisure and
heredity gave me a husky build! Football! What good does that do me
here? Four out of five of these rivermen are huskier than I am. Me a
business man! Why I can't seem even to learn the first principles of the
first job of the whole lot! I've _got_ to!" he admonished; himself
grimly. "I _hate_ a fellow who doesn't make good!"' and with a very
determined set to his handsome chin he hurled the whole force of his
young energies at those elusive figures that somehow _would_ lie.

The week slipped by in this struggle. It was much worse than in the
Chicago office. There Bob was allowed all the time he thought he needed.
Here one task followed close on the heels of another, without chance for
a breathing space or room to take bearings. Bob had to do the best he
could, commit the result to a merciful providence, and seize the next
job by the throat.

One morning he awoke with a jump to find it was seven o'clock. He had
heard neither whistle, and must have overslept! Hastily he leaped into
his clothes, and rushed out into the dining room. There he found the
chore-boy leisurely feeding a just-lighted kitchen fire. To Bob's
exclamation of astonishment he looked up.

"Sunday," he grinned; "breakfus' at eight."

DigitalOcean Referral Badge