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down a manhole
    the pastyfaced young man wearing somebody else’s readymade business opportunity
    is most assuredly not
    the holder of any of the positions for which he made application at the employmentagency

Charley Anderson
    The train was three hours late getting into St. Paul. Charley had his coat on and his bag closed an hour before he got in. He sat fidgeting in the seat taking off and pulling on a pair of new buckskin gloves. He
wished they wouldn’t all be down at the station to meet him. Maybe only Jim would be there. Maybe they hadn’t got his wire.
    The porter came and brushed him off, then took his bags. Charley couldn’t see much through the driving steam and snow outside the window. The train slackened speed, stopped in a broad snowswept freightyard, started again with a jerk and a series of snorts from the forced draft in the engine. The bumpers slammed all down the train. Charley’s hands were icy inside his gloves. The porter stuck his head in and yelled, “St. Paul.” There was nothing to do but get out.
    There they all were. Old man Vogel and Aunt Hartmann with their red faces and their long noses looked just the same as ever, but Jim and Hedwig had both of them filled out. Hedwig had on a mink coat and Jim’s overcoat looked darn prosperous. Jim snatched Charley’s bags away from him and Hedwig and Aunt Hartmann kissed him and old man Vogel thumped him on the back. They all talked at once and asked him all kinds of questions. When he asked about Ma, Jim frowned and said she was in the hospital, they’d go around to see her this afternoon. They piled the bags into a new Ford sedan and squeezed themselves in after with a lot of giggling and squealing from Aunt Hartmann. “You see I got the Ford agency now,” said Jim. “To tell the truth, things have been pretty good out here.” “Wait till you see the house, it’s all been done over,” said Hedwig. “Vell, my poy made de Cherman Kaiser run. Speaking for the Cherman-American commoonity of the Twin Cities, ve are pr’roud of you.”
    They had a big dinner ready and Jim gave him a drink of whiskey and old man Vogel kept pouring him out beer and saying, “Now tell us all about it.” Charley sat there his face all red, eating the stewed chicken and the dumplings and drinking the beer till he was ready to burst. He couldn’t think what to tell them so he made funny cracks when they asked him questions. After dinner old man Vogel gave him one of his best Havana cigars.
    That afternoon Charley and Jim went to the hospital to see Ma. Driving over, Jim said she’d been operated on for a tumor but that he was afraid it was cancer, but even that hadn’t given Charley an idea of how sick she’d be. Her face was shrunken and yellow against the white pillow. When he leaned over to kiss her her lips felt thin and hot. Her breath was very bad. “Charley, I’m glad you came,” she said in a trembly voice. “It would have been better if you’d come sooner. . . . Not that I’m not comfortable here . . . any way I’ll be glad having my
boys around me when I get well. God has watched over us all, Charley, we mustn’t forget Him.” “Now, Ma, we don’t want to get tired and excited,” said Jim. “We want to keep our strength to get well.”
    â€œOh, but He’s been so merciful.” She brought her small hand, so thin it was blue, out from under the cover and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Jim, hand me my glasses, that’s a good boy,” she said in a stronger voice. “Let me take a look at the prodigal son.”
    Charley couldn’t help shuffling his feet uneasily as she looked at him.
    â€œYou’re quite a man now and you’ve made quite a name for yourself over there. You boys have turned out better than I hoped. . . . Charley, I was afraid you’d