"
"In that case, there is no more to be said. I'd much rather hang
about and try to get adopted by a millionaire, but if you insist
on my working--Waiter!"
"What do you want?" asked Ann.
"Will you get me a Classified Telephone Directory," said Jimmy.
"What for?" asked Ann.
"To look for a profession. There is nothing like being
methodical."
The waiter returned, bearing a red book. Jimmy thanked him and
opened it at the A's.
"The boy, what will he become?" he said. He turned the pages.
"How about an Auditor? What do you think of that?"
"Do you think you could audit?"
"That I could not say till I had tried. I might turn out to be
very good at it. How about an Adjuster?"
"An adjuster of what?"
"The book doesn't say. It just remarks broadly--in a sort of
spacious way--'Adjuster.' I take it that, having decided to
become an adjuster, you then sit down and decide what you wish to
adjust. One might, for example, become an Asparagus Adjuster."
"A what?"
"Surely you know? Asparagus Adjusters are the fellows who sell
those rope-and-pulley affairs by means of which the Smart Set
lower asparagus into their mouths--or rather Francis the footman
does it for them, of course. The diner leans back in his chair,
and the menial works the apparatus in the background. It is
entirely superseding the old-fashioned method of picking the
vegetable up and taking a snap at it. But I suspect that to be a
successful Asparagus Adjuster requires capital.
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