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I was a good worker. I always tried to please the man I worked for; even though I was a good mechanic, if I was asked to sweep the floor, I'd sweep it. However, I had my mind made up. I went to see the master mechanic, Mr. Esterbrook.

"You've been mighty nice to me," I blurted out as I walked up to his desk. "That I am a machinist is something I owe to you. I'll never forget it either."

"Why, Walt, I'm glad you've done so fine, I'll——"

"But I'm going to quit, Mr. Esterbrook."

His face changed completely. The smile with which he had accepted my thanks faded like a light blown out. He was hurt and astonished.

"Is anything the matter, Walt?"

"No, sir. Not a thing. It's just that I want to get more experience. I think I'm a good mechanic—say, I know I am." I saw him grin, because of my habitual willingness to appraise my qualities at their proper value. "I can do any job you ask me to, Mr. Esterbrook, but I want to learn more things."

"Walt," he said solemnly, "you are a good mechanic; as good as any we've got. You mustn't quit."