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The job that he felt pretty certain of obtaining was that of delivering newspapers. Joe was well enough acquainted with the newspaper business to know that it was always difficult for circulation managers to find boys enough to keep the routes covered. He had had some experience of the kind, for when he was in grammar school he had delivered the Enterprise all one Summer and part of a Winter, until, in fact, a chronic condition of wet feet caused his mother to interfere. His father had not at any time approved of the proceeding, for Mr. Faulkner had been a man of position in Akron and it had seemed to him that in carrying a newspaper route Joe was performing labor beneath him and, perhaps, casting aspersions on the financial and social standing of Mr. John Faulkner. Joe had had to beg long for permission and his father had agreed with ill-grace. The fun had soon worn off, but Joe had kept on with the work long after his chum, who had embarked in the enterprise with him, had given up. It didn’t bring in much money, and Joe didn’t need what it did bring, since his father was lavishly generous in the matter of pocket-money. It was principally the fact that his father had predicted that he would soon tire of it that kept him doggedly at it when the cold weather came. Getting up before light and tramping through snow and slush to toss twisted-up papers into doorways soon became the veriest drudgery to the fourteen-year-old boy, and only pride prevented him from crying quits. When, finally, wet boots and continual sniffling caused his mother to put her foot down Joe was secretly very, very glad!