When the workman had
discovered the secret that made successful the Wheelright bicycle he
opened a shop and began to reap the reward of his efforts.
"That was me. I was that fellow," cried the fat man who in reality had
bought his interest in the bicycle company after the age of forty.
Tapping himself on the breast he paused as though overcome with
feeling. Tears came into his eyes. The young workman had become a
reality to him. "All day I ran about the little shop crying 'Quality!
Quality!' I do that now. It is a fetish with me. I do not make
bicycles for money but because I am a workman with pride in my work.
You may put that in the book. You may quote me as saying that. A big
point should be made of my pride in my work." The advertising man
nodded his head and scribbled upon the pad of paper. Almost he could
have written the story without the visit to the factory. When the fat
man was not looking he turned his face to one side and listened
attentively. With a whole heart he wished the president would go away
and leave him alone to wander in the factory.
On the evening before, John Van Moore had taken part in an adventure.
With a companion, a fellow who drew cartoons for the daily papers, he
had gone into a saloon and there had met another man of the
newspapers.
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