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EXHIBITION BUSINESS PRECARIOUS There was little pleasure in being a public exhibitor. It was hard work and there was little appreciation. In many cases, on one pretext or another, there was a refusal to meet the payment agreed upon and, frankly, I was tired of the business. Shortly after my return to Toledo from California, I made a trip to Brockton, Mass., to see Mr. Cross with whom I had had a contract the previous year. The ground was covered with snow and a strong cold wind was blowing; it made me wish I was back in California. MISTAKEN FOR A STRIKER Mr. Cross was in his office and his secretary informed me he was in a very bad humor. She told me that it would perhaps be advisable for me to return and see him the following day. I had traveled too great a distance to have to wait so without being announced I walked into his office and greeted him. He barked in reply and wanted to know why in --- I wanted to see him at this particular time, glaring at me with a wicked look. I told him I wanted to make him another proposition. He remarked it was about time I was coming to my sense and what in --- had I now to propose that I had not already failed to live up to. I acknowledged that I had failed last year but if given another apportunity I felt sure I would make good. He snorted, bit a fat cigar in two, and wanted to know what my new proposition was. I told him that I had been in California and had really learned to master my ainship and that I had come straight to him to make a contract that would be satisfactory to him and his associates. For a moment I thought he would explode. He was purple with rage and coughed several times and muttered language that was unique. He hesitated, looked at me critically and finally blurted out,