The first applicant for the position of office boy was not attractive in appeance. His nose was crooked and his mouth was big.
His jacket was too large and his trousers too short. There were holes in his stockings and his shoes were not brushed.
“What is your name?” asked the man at the desk.
“Martin Barry, sir.”
“Where do you live?”
“No. 10 Veteran Court.”
Veteran Court was not in demand. Martin was dismissed.
As he passed out to the street he spied a crumpled bit of green in a step corner. It was a dollar bill. He put it in his pocket and went back into the store. For an hour Mr. Hinman was busy with boys. Martin waited. As soon as the last applicant had gone he approached the desk.
“Did you lose this?” he asked.
The merchant ran through his pockets.
“I must have,” he decided, “for I had one when I came. Where did you find it?”
Martin told him.
Mr. Hinman eyed him keenly, and recognized him as the first applicant.
“Have you any experience as office boy?” was the query.
“No, sir.”
“Suppose I should hire you, and should want something done that you didn’t know how to do?”
Martin looked straight at the questioner.
“I’d do it the best I could, sir, and the next time perhaps I’d do it better.”
The position was his.
“I knew,” said Mr. Hinman in relating the incident, “that a boy who would return a dollar to a man whom he had every reason to dislike, and wait patiently a whole hour to give it to him, was too honest and faithful a boy for us to miss. I’d trust Martin Barry with a million dollars.”
“Let us walk honestly.” Roman, 13:13.
ML 12/08/1946