booklets obtained in a hurry from the Acme company's Cleveland branch.
And he sold washing machines—more of them than he had dared dream possible!
His heart was in the job. He was a good salesman, frank, eager, honest, convincing. He told his prospects that the money he earned was to send him to college, and they sympathized for the most part with his ambition. His commissions mounted rapidly. By the first of September he was able to write to Uncle Peter that he had written up business enough to net him $150. And this would be sufficient, augmented by the steel man's promised aid, to send Harold to Tate!
Peter Thatcher wrote back cautiously congratulating his nephew and suggesting that the youth mail to Tate an application to enter the Freshman class, along with his High School graduation certificate.
Harold sent the letter off that night.
The next morning Harold set out again upon his washing machine rounds, a new incentive spurring him on to even more strenuous efforts. Ten days later came the official-looking envelope bearing the name of the Registrar of Tate University. Harold opened it with hands that were all thumbs. But he need not have been so nervous. The letter enclosed stated that Harold Thatcher Lamb, as far as
