out, want to do anything! He wanted his family to stop bothering him. Was no provision made in this world for such as he?
Certainly, no provision was made for him in Toledo, Ohio. The word temperament was still undiscovered there. His negative kind of desire was alien to American sympathy. Of so much, he was aware. Adding machines and collections awaited him. He went to the bank where the paying teller again reprimanded him. So did one of the clerks. So did one of the directors, a friend of his father. He staggered through another day, which he helped along a little by returning at noon with all his notes uncollected. Nobody wants to pay today, he explained. . . . But it's your business to make them pay. . . . There was cold ham, cold slaw, and rice pudding for lunch. His mother had been crying. His father was stern.
During the rice pudding, he made a resolution, which he kept. From that day on he worked as he had never worked before. Everybody in the bank was astonished. His father was delighted. His mother said, I told you so. I know my son. . . . He stopped buying books and silly things and, when he had saved enough money, he took a train to New York without bidding the bank officials or his family good-bye. Once there, his resolution again failed him. He had no desires, or if he had, one counteracted another. His money was almost gone and he was forced to seek for work but everywhere he went
