a look of inquiry on his face.

"What do you want?" was the curt reply.

"I want to see Mr. Goodrich," came the answer in tones even sharper,
and the young man conducted him to the door of the office.

"Well," said a portly middle-aged gentleman, when he had finished
dictating a letter to the young lady seated at the typewriter, "What
do you want?"

"I came in answer to your ad in this morning's Whistler," answered
Dick.

"Umph--Where did you work last?"

"At Kansas City. I'm a printer by trade, but willing to do anything
until I get a start."

"Why aren't you working at your trade?"

"I was thrown out by the strike and have been unable to find anything
since."

A look of anger and scorn swept over the merchant's face. "So you're
one of that lot, are you? Why don't you fellows learn to take what you
can get? Look there." He pointed to a pile of pamphlets lying on the
table. "Just came in to-day; they cost me fifty per cent more than I
ever paid before, just because you cattle can't be satisfied; and now
you want me to give you a place. If I had my way, I'd give you, and