The answer was a withering frown, but Sam was tough, and not easily withered.

"Aint he stuck up, though?" thought he, as the young man left him. "He don't seem to like me much."

"Have you got any corns, sir?" he asked, thrusting a paper into the hands of a portly gentleman with a merry face.

The gentleman laughed.

"Really, my boy," he said, "that is a very singular question."

"Is it?" said Sam. "I don't know why."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because Dr. Graham upstairs will cure you before you know it. It's only a dollar."

"You are sure you are not Dr. Graham, yourself?" said the stout man, regarding Sam with an amused expression.

"If I was, I'd wear better clothes," said Sam. "He makes lots of money, the doctor does."

"You'd better learn the business, my young friend."

"I guess I will, if he'll learn me," said Sam. "It'll pay better than standin' here, givin' away papers."

"Don't that pay?"

"Not very well," said Sam. "I only get ten cents a hundred."

"Can you pay your board out of that?"

"No, but I make commissions, besides," said Sam.

"How is that?" asked the stout gentleman, in some curiosity.

"If you'd gone upstairs, and had two corns cured, the doctor,--he'd have given me a quarter."

"Would he really?"

"Yes, he would. Hadn't you better go?"

"I have no occasion for Dr. Graham's services, at present," said the gentleman, laughing, "but still I don't want you to lose by me. Here's a quarter," producing the same from his vest-pocket, and giving it to Sam. "Isn't that just as well as if I had gone up?"

"Thank you, sir. You're a gentleman," said Sam. "Do you come by here often?"

His new acquaintance laughed. "Every day," he answered, "but I don't give away quarters every day. If you expect that, I am afraid I shall have to walk on the other side of the street. Good-morning, and success to you."

"Good-mornin'," said Sam.

"Well, here's luck," thought Sam. "I like this business pretty well.

I've made sixty cents already, and the doctor's goin to pay me ten cents more. That'll buy me a good, square dinner, and take me to the Old Bowery besides."

So Sam continued distributing his circulars. Some into whose hands they were thrust did not appear to be suitably grateful; and, though on the lookout for a customer, he did not succeed in finding any, till by good luck the last circular was placed in the hands of a man who was in search of just the relief which it promised.

"Where is Dr. Graham's office?" he inquired.

"Right upstairs, No. 10," said Sam, eagerly. "You just follow me, I'll show you."

"I think I can find it without you," said the other.

"Oh, I can go up just as well as not," said Sam, who had a special object, as we know, in serving as guide.

"Very well. Go ahead, and I will follow you."

Upstairs went Sam, the new patient following him.

"I've brought another," said Sam, as he burst into the office.

The doctor, though glad of another patient, was rather vexed at the style of Sam's announcement.

"Very well," he said. "Sit down there, till I have leisure to attend to you."

"All right, sir," said Sam, sitting down on the sofa in the outer office, and taking up the morning "Herald."

In twenty minutes the patient departed, relieved.

"Now," said Dr. Graham, addressing Sam, "I have something to say to you. When you bring in a patient again, don't break out as you did just now: 'I've brought another.' I was very much mortified."

"What shall I say, then?" asked Sam.

"You needn't say anything, except 'This is Dr. Graham, sir.'"

"Very well," said Sam, "I'll remember. How much did you make out of him?"

"Don't speak in that way. My charges were three dollars."

"How much are you going to give me?"

"There's thirty cents."

"I think I'll go and get some dinner, now," said Sam. "Will you want me to-morrow?"

"I've been thinking," said the doctor, "that I would engage you as my office-boy."

"What would I have to do?"

"Stay in the office when I am away, and distribute circulars when I want you to."

"How much will you pay me?"

"Three dollars a week."