The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1908-08-28

A MAN IN THE MAKING.

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The story Of Skaggles-as it Is told
Dy writer in the Associated Sunday
Magazines-is very simple, but 1t goes
straight to that spot In the heart that
ID always waiting to respond to the
brave and sweet things of life. Skaggles
was 2ot his name. Some one gave him
that title the third day after he took
the job 1t was finally curtailed to
'Skag." When he first came to the
Office he fitted like a mOuse's tail In q
well but he had an old lOok-the look
OF burden beyond his years. He was
wan and pale, and his nose was red
every time he came in from the wealth
er. His shoes and stockings were ven-
tilated beyond endurance to anybody
except boy.
But Skag was a faithful wOrker-at
first Bright and early he swept the
Office a1d busted the desks-that IL,
used the duster-and by eight o'clock
he was over in his corner, his hair plas-
tered back and his face washed, save
for the high-water mark about his neck.
But by degrees Skags enthusiasm
over his new position languished. The
clerks complained of unemptied waste
baskets and dusty desks. 1t was also
noticed that Skag's clothes were daily
growing more shabby, his hair longer,
his shoes more run over, and it was
evident that his mind was not on his
work.
A reprimand from the boss had the
desired effect. He became more pune
tual took more interest in his work,
seemed CHEEKY. and sometimes whistled
little. But Skag's work was spas
modic. Itywas not long before he was
as bad as ever. His work Jagged, he
was slow about getting round mornings,
and his interest-Outwardly, at least
was Of the wooden Indian variety. The
browning and final test of endurance
on the part of the Office force came
when he went to sleep In his chair.
"Skag come here'
1t was the boss. Skag shuffled into
the managers private office, and sat on
the edge Of chair, nervous and
fidgety. The boss did not speak for q
mlnute-his way Of impressing a cul-
prit.
."Skag, this thing has gone far
enough! You are not paying attention
to your work. Look at the dust on my
desk-its frightful. This is Monday
III give you Just one week. Saturday
winds you up unless you come out OF
that trance. That's ALL"
Skag shifted and shuffled back to his
chair, where he tugged at the seam on
his trousers and gazed vacantly out Of
the window.
The next morning the Office fairly
glistened, and all through the week
| his work improved. The stenographer
even discarded her work sleeves, her
desk was so clean.
But no one noticed that Skags face
was growing thinner and his eyelids
more dropping.
Saturday night, after five o'clock,
Skag stayed and cleaned up the office.
He would be that much ahead when
Monday came.
Monday morning the office was as
clean as Dutch kitchen, but there was
no Skag. Noon arrived, and still no
Skag, at which the boss waxed wrathy.
zones, go up to the kids house and
see what the trouble Is. Tell him II he
can't get here by two o'clock, he needn't
come at ALL
When Jones returned he went into
the managers private Office and closed
the door. Later he came out with a
long sheet Of paper In his hand. The
boss had headed the list with twenty
five dollars.
what brought 1t on?' asked the
stenOgrapher.
Exposure, and not enough to keep
body and soul together. The kids been
sitting up nights with her for a month.
Funerals Wednesday,"
Skag is still working. He wears a
new suit, and the high-water mark
round his neck has disappeared. And
they do not call him Skaggles now.
They call him by his right name.