took the first honest job I had had in a good many years. I thank God I
did take it, for it was a stepping-stone.


FISHING FOR A DINNER

I started in working and was getting on fine, but I always felt I wasn't
getting money enough. I tried in my leisure time for another job, but in
all the places I was asked the same question: "Where did you work last?"
I could not tell them, "In prison and on the road," and that queered me.
So I stuck to the furnace, was always on time, and was pretty well liked
by the people. I had been there about two weeks, and seen the cook every
day and smelled the steak, etc., about noontime and at supper, but the
cook never asked me if I had a mouth on me. She was a good-natured
outspoken Irish woman with a good big heart, and I thought about this
time that I'd jolly her a little and get my dinner. One day I came up
from the cellar carrying a hod of coal in each hand, and going into the
kitchen I tried in every way to attract her attention, but she was busy
broiling a steak and never looked around. Finally I got tired and said,
"Cook, where will I put this coal?" Well, well, I'll never forget that
moment in years! She turned and looked at me and began, "I want you to
understand my name is Mrs. Cunningham. I'm none of your cooks, and if
you dare call me cook again while you're in this house I'll have you
sacked--discharged!" I thought I had been hit with a steam car. I did
not answer her back, and she kept right on: "I'm a lady, and I'll be
treated as such or I'll know why!" I never saw a person so mad in all my
life, and I couldn't understand why. There she was cooking, and yet she
was no cook! I thought to myself, "I guess she doesn't like her job." I
didn't blame her, because I didn't like mine either.