When I woke up, I was on a train and feeling very uncomfortable after a long sleep. I sat back in my sit and I tried to think. After a long time, I said to myself, 'I must have a name!' I looked in my pockets. No letter. No papers. Nothing with my name on. But I found three thousand dollars. 'I must be someone,' I thought.
The train was crowded with men who were all very friendly. One of them came and sat next to me. 'Hi! My name's R.P. Bolder - Bolder and Son, from Missouri. You're going to the meeting in New York, of course? What's your name?'
I had to reply to him, so I said quickly, 'Edward Pinkhammer from Cornopolis, Kansas.'
He was reading a newspaper, but every few minutes he looked up from it, to talk to me. I understood from his conversation that he was a druggist, and he thought that I was a druggist, too.
'Are all these men druggists?' I asked.
'Yes, they are,' he answered. 'Like us, they're all going to the yearly meeting in New York.'
