Young Stein goes to Chicago to
have his clothes made, and old Sulzberg likes to keep the traveling
men waiting in the little ante-room outside his private office.
Jock McChesney finished his huge breakfast, strolled over to Sulzberg
& Stein's, and inquired his way to the office only to find that his
mother was not yet there. There were three men in the little waiting-
room. One of them was Fat Ed Meyers. His huge bulk overflowed the
spindle-legged chair on which he sat. His brown derby was in his
hands. His eyes were on the closed door at the other side of the room.
So were the eyes of the other two travelers. Jock took a vacant seat
next to Fat Ed Meyers so that he might, in his mind's eye, pick out a
particularly choice spot upon which his hard young fist might land--if
only he had the chance. Breaking up a man's sleep like that, the great
big overgrown mutt!
"What's your line?" said Ed Meyers, suddenly turning toward Jock.
Prompted by some imp--"Skirts," answered Jock. "Ladies' petticoats.
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