Staunton spectator and vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1896-1916, 1911-05-19
A MAN IN
THE MAKING

The story of Skaggles il very sim
pie, but 1t 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.
1t was finally curtailed to "Skag."
When he first came to the ONCE he
fitted like a mouse's tail in well;
but he had an old look-the look
of a burden beyond his years. He
was wan and pale, and his nose was
red every time he came In from the
weather. His shoes and stockings
were ventilated beyond endurance
to anybody except boy.
But Skag was a faithful worker
at first. Bright and early he swept
the office and busted the desks
that is, used the duster-and by
eight o'clock he was over in his cor
ner, his hair plastered back and his
face washed, save for the hish-water
mark about his neck.
But by degrees Skag's 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
punctual, took more interest In his
work, seemed CHEEKY. and sometimes
whistled a little. But Skag's work
was spasmodic. It was not long be-
fore he was as bad as ever. His
work Jagged, he was slow about get
ting round mornings, and his inter-
est-outwardly, at least-was of the
wooden Indian variety. The crown
Ing 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 a minute-his way Of impressing
culprit.
"Skag. this thing has gone far
enough! You are not paying atten-
ton 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 un-
less you come out Of that trance.
That's all"
Skag shifted and shuffed back to
his chair, where he tugged at the
seam of his trousers and gazed
vacantly out of the window.
The next morning the ONCE fair
ly glistened, and all through the
week his work improved. The stenog-
rapner even discarded her work
sleeves, her desk was so clean.
But no one noticed that Skag's
face was growing thinner and his
eyelids more dropping.
Saturday night, after five o'clock,
Skag stayed and cleaned up the Of
fee. He would be that much 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 boss
waxed wrathy.
Jones, go up to the kids house
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 Jones returned he went into
the managers private office and
closed the door. Later he came out
with q long sheet Of paper in his
hand. The boss had headed the
list with twenty-five dollars.
What brought it 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.