I was so grateful to Cy that I gave him my very best “thank you.” Here was a chance to get on in life, to have my own money, and be independent and mix around with men⁠—to learn something of the world. I was so taken with this notion that I hunted up the broom, which was worn down to the strings, and began sweeping out the barroom. There were no customers in the place. Cy stood by, his hat on one side of his head, a big cigar in the opposite side of his mouth, hands in pockets, and eyed me thoughtfully. When I had the place about half swept out, Cy came over and took the broom out of my hands. He turned it about, examined it carefully. “Johnnie, I think you’re on the square with me, and I’m going to be on the up and up with you. You go to the store and get yourself a new broom.”

I did that, and swept the place all over again. Having started to work without my father’s permission I decided to say nothing till I got well settled in my job. I had a feeling that he might veto the whole thing if I told him at the start, but if I waited a while and had a few dollars saved up he might let me continue.