Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

930 “ Well, it’s this. You're just fresh from the country—” McKee paused, struck by a diverting idea. “ Fresh is right!” he ex- claimed with a grin. ‘ But what I mean is, you're not well up on city ways—and job hunting. And winter’s coming and it looks like a hard winter. Now your—your personal appearance: Of course you're al- ways clean and neat enough, and all that, but in New York when you look for work you want to throw a bluff. Look as if you didn’t need work. Dress like a fellow who’s been taking his pick of fancy jobs, get me? If you haven’t got it, buy yourself a good front, good clothes I mean and wear all the scenery when you go out looking. It ’ll get you a lot better job than you deserve. Nothing succeeds like success—or the ap- pearance of success—you know. Will you follow my tip, Barney?” ‘“‘ Well, while I’ve got some money saved, Mac, not much, but a little, I’m not keen about spending it on clothes, now that I’m off the payroll. Never cared much about fancy dressing anyway. But maybe it is good business. I’ll buy some scenery—” “‘ That’s right,”” McKee approved, “ you'll - need it.” Barney Wilder had lived economically in a quiet boarding house on a West Side street as the credit of several hundred dollars in his bank book testified. He contemplated the bank balance with qualms of doubt a few days after leaving the Discus Forward- ing Company by request of McGonigle. “Tt looked big, when I had a pay en- velope coming in every week,” Barney mused. “ Funny how small it looks now! I hate to spend a nickel on anything foolish like clothes!” His hand trembled and he wrote several checks for varying amounts and destroyed them as he wrote them. Finally he drew a check for a hundred dollars to his own name and shoved it through the cashier’s window. “ That'll buy me a swell overcoat, hat and shoes,” Barney figured. ‘“ It’s taking a chance with a lot of money, but I guess Mac is right. I’ve got to look prosperous to keep up with competition. I'll risk it.” The hundred dollars did wonders with the outward semblance of Barney Wilder. A tan overcoat of beautiful, light but warm ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. fleecy material, a light tan hat and dark tan shoes draped his big form and uncon- sciously his courage rose when he saw his reflection in a mirror. “Ever hear of Steve Brodie?” Barney asked the clothier who was standing just behind him, admiringly smoothing the per- fectly fitted shoulders. “No,” said the merchant. yours?” Barney sighed anxiously, “I hope he He’s costing me a lot of money.” Barney went into the street looking like a successful world’s champion heavyweight. The big overcoat concealed every suggestion that the clothes beneath were competent but getting a little worn and at their best were no better than the ready-made, standarized product one could buy in Barney’s native Vermont village. The day was not very cold, just a fine, brilliant, sunshiny Novem- ber day. Before he had gone a block, Bar- ney, who was decidedly healthy and active had unbuttoned the coat. Midway of a second block he was obliged to strip it off and carry it over his arm. ‘‘ Whoof,” said Barney, ‘‘ if winter doesn’t come soon most of my hundred dollars is wasted. I can’t stand wearing this blanket, job or no job.” Barney read the classified advertising in the morning and evening newspapers. The humble two line statements that a man was wanted to keep books or bill customers or collect accounts or make himself useful, did not interest him. He specialized on the opportunities for an office manager, factory manager, department head, executive and such plums. He wanted a job as good as his friend McKee held. ‘I want the best. I’ve got as much ability and experience as Mac,” he argued. ‘‘ What’s the use going after something any roughneck can do? Especially after I’ve blown a hundred dol- lars on a new outfit of scenery!” He applied in person and wrote innumer- able letters and went to appointed inter- views, always in the big tan coat. Barney started forth in the magnificent coat, but seldom arrived in his glory. November continued fine with no more than a hint of winter in its air and more often reminiscences of Indian summer. Even Barney’s firmest resolution to display his “ Friend of is! COMIG DOO! S (©