A MAN IN THE MAKING

New Zealand Tablet, Volume 12, 12 November 1908, Page 37

A MAN IN THE MAKING

The story of Skaggles is. very simple, but 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 mouse's tail in a well ;. but he had an old 100k — the look of -a burden beyond his years. He wawan 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 a boy. But Skag was a faithful worker — at "first. Bright and early he swept the office and dusted the desks— that is, used the duster and by 8 o'clock he was over in his corner, his hair plastered back and his face washed, save for the high-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. It 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. Hj became more punctual, took more interest in his work, •seemed cheery, and sometimes whistled a little But Skag's work was spasmodic. It was not long before he was as bad as ever. His work lagged, he was slow about getting around mornings, and his interest— outwardly, at least— was „of the wooden Indian variety. The crowning and final test of endurance on the- part of the office force came when he went to sleep in his 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— his way of impressing a culprit. ' - • ' Skag, this thing has gone far enough ! 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 unless you come out of that trance That's all.'" Skag sniffed 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 Skag's face was growing thinner and his eyelids more drooping. Saturday night, after 5 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 a Dutch kitchen, but there was no 'Skag. . Noon arrived, and still no Skag, at which the boss. waxed wrathful. . 'Jones, go up- to. the. kid's_ house and see what the trouble is. Teir him if he .can't get here by 2 o'clock, he needn't come at all.' - When Jones returned, he went into the manager's 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 25 dollars. - • "" 'What brought it on? 'asked th> stenographer". . ' Exposure, and not enough to keep body and soul together.. The kid's been sitting up nights with her for a month. Funeral's Wednesday. ' Skag is. still working. He wears a new suit, and the highwater, mark round his neck .has disappeared.. And they do hotcall him Skaggles now. They call him by his right name.