Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 February 1913 — A MAN IN THE MAKING [ARTICLE]

A MAN IN THE MAKING

The story of Hkaggles is rsry simple, bat It goes straight to that spot in" the heart that Is always waiting to respond to the brave and sweet things of life. Skaggles was not his name. Some one gave him that title the third day after he took the job. It was finally curtailed to “Skag.” When he first came to the office he fitted like a moose’s tall in a well; but he had am old look—the look of a burden beyond his years. He was wan and pale, and his nose was rsdevery timshec&me 1b from the weather. His shoes and stockings were ventilated beyond endurance to anybody except a boy. But Shag was a faithful worker — at first Bright and early he swept the office and dusted the desks — that Is, used the duster—and by eight o’clock he was over In his corner, hls hair plastered back and hls face washed, save for the high-water mark about hls neck. But by degrees Skag’e enthusiasm over fain new position languished. The clerks complained of unemptled waste-baskets and dusty desks. It was also notleed that Skag’s clothes were dally growing more shabby, hls hair longer, his shoes mors runover, and it was evident that hls mind: was not on his work. ▲ reprimand from the “boss” had the desired effect. He became more punctual, took more interest In his work, seemed cheery, and sometimes whistled a little. But Skag’s work was spssmodlc. It was not long before he was as bad as ever. Hls work lagged, he was slow about getting round mornings, and his Interest—outwardly, at least—was of the wooden Indian variety. The erownlng and final test of endurance On the part of the office, force came when he went to sleep in hls chair. “Skag, come here!” It was the boss. Skag shuffled Into the manager’s private office, and sat on the edge of a chair, nervous and fidgety. The boss did not speak for a minute—rhis way of impressing a culprit. “Skag, this thing has gone far enough l You are not paying attention to your work. Look at the dust on my desk —it’s frightful. This is Monday. I’ll give you just one week. Saturday winds you up unifies you come out of that trance. Thftt’s„ull.” ' ■ Skag sniffed and shuffled back to hls chair, where he tugged at the seam of hls trousers and gazed vacantly out of tbs window. The next morning the office fairly glistened, and all through the week hls work improved. The stenographer even discarded / her work sleeves, her desk was so clean. But no one noticed that Skag’s face was growing thinner and hls eyelids more drooping. Saturday night, after five o’clock, Skag stayed and cleaned np the office. He would be that mnoh ahead when Monday came. . Monday morning the office was as clean as a Dutch kitchen, but there was no Skag. Noon arrived, and still no Skag, at which the boas waxed wrathy. “Jones, go up to the kid’s kouss and see what the trouble is. Tell him if he can’t get here by two o’clock, he needn’t come at all.” When Jonea returned he went into the manager’s private office and closed the door. Later he came out with a long sheet of paper in hls hand. The boss had headed the list with twenty-five dollars. “What brought it ont” asked ths stenographer. “Exposure, and not enongh to keep body and soul together. The kid’s been sitting up nights with her for a mouth. Funeral’s Wednesday." Skag is still working. He wears s new suit, and the high-water mark round hls nock has disappeared. And they do not call him Skaggles now. They call him by his right name.