The Slot was the metaphor that expressed the class cleavage of Society, and no man crossed this metaphor, back and forth, more successfully than Freddie Drummond.
At first, Freddie Drummond found it monstrously difficult to get along among the working people.
A box factory supplied the parts, and all Freddie Drummond had to do was to fit the parts into a form and drive in the wire nails with a light hammer.
Freddie Drummond found the other men on the same job with him jogging along and earning a dollar and seventy-five cents a day.
As a member of the faculty he was known as "Cold- Storage." He had but one grief, and that was "Freddie." He had earned it when he played full-back in the 'Varsity eleven, and his formal soul had never succeeded in living it down.
And then says she, 'Thass true, Freddie dear' (she's a smart one, is Kitty), 'but I'm stayin' in the flat, an' you're goin' out into the cold, cold night!' 'Put it in a pome, lovely Kitty,' says I.
"Looks like a lot, hey?" said Master Freddie, fumbling with it.
"Freddie" got one bill loose, and then stuffed the rest back into his trousers' pocket.
Master Freddie clambered in with some difficulty, and Jurgis had started to follow, when the driver shouted: "Hi, there!
Then Freddie gave a number on the Lake Shore Drive, and the carriage started away.
"Do keep still, Freddie! You gibber like an ape, dear," said the woman to him.
And she won't come it over me with any of her 'now-Freddie-dears.' She thinks my name is Freddie, you know, but of course it ain't.