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When Jimmy returned to his room that night it was with a full stomach, but with
the knowledge that he had practically reached the end of his rope. He had been
unable to bring himself to the point of writing his father an admission of his
failure, and in fact he had gone so far, and in his estimation had sunk so low,
that he had definitely determined he would rather starve to death now than admit
his utter inefficiency to those whose respect he most valued.
As he climbed the stairway to his room he heard some one descending from
above, and as they passed beneath the dim light of a flickering gas-jet he realized
that the other stopped suddenly and turned back to look after him as Jimmy
continued his ascent of the stairs; and then a low voice inquired:
"Say, bo, what you doin' here?"
Jimmy turned toward the questioner.
"
Oh!" he exclaimed as recognition of the other dawned slowly upon him. "It's you,
is it? My old and esteemed friend, the Lizard."
"Sure, it's me," replied the Lizard. "But what you doin' here? Looking for an
assistant general manager?"
Jimmy grinned.
"
Don't rub it in," he said, still smiling.
The other ascended toward him, his keen eyes appraising him from head to foot.
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