"Well, if I can"t, I know who can," he replied, with a chuckle.
"Exactly," O"Mally agreed. "I"m counting on the force of Miss Kalski"s example. Miss Devine"s all right, Miss Kalski, but she needs regular exercise. She owes it to her complexion. I can"t discipline people."
Miss Kalski"s only reply was a low, indulgent laugh.
O"Mally braced himself on the morning of Ardessa"s return. He told the waiter at his club to bring him a second pot of coffee and to bring it hot. He was really afraid of her. When she presented herself at his office at 10:30 he complimented her upon her tan and asked about her vacation. Then he broke the news to her.
"We want to make a few temporary changes about here, Miss Devine, for the summer months. The business department is short of help.
Henderson is going to put Miss Kalski on the books for a while to figure out some economies for him, and he is going to take you over.
Meantime I"ll get Becky broken in so that she could take your work if you were sick or anything."
Ardessa drew herself up.
"I"ve not been accustomed to commercial work, Mr. O"Mally. I"ve no interest in it, and I don"t care to brush up in it."
"Brushing up is just what we need, Miss Devine." O"Mally began tramping about his room expansively. "I"m going to brush everybody up. I"m going to brush a few people out; but I want you to stay with us, of course. You belong here. Don"t be hasty now. Go to your room and think it over."
Ardessa was beginning to cry, and O"Mally was afraid he would lose his nerve. He looked out of the window at a new sky-sc.r.a.per that was building, while she retired without a word.
At her own desk Ardessa sat down breathless and trembling. The one thing she had never doubted was her unique value to O"Mally. She had, as she told herself, taught him everything. She would say a few things to Becky Tietelbaum, and to that pigeon-breasted tailor, her father, too! The worst of it was that Ardessa had herself brought it all about; she could see that clearly now. She had carefully trained and qualified her successor. Why had she ever civilized Becky? Why had she taught her manners and deportment, broken her of the gum-chewing habit, and made her presentable? In her original state O"Mally would never have put up with her, no matter what her ability.
Ardessa told herself that O"Mally was notoriously fickle; Becky amused him, but he would soon find out her limitations. The wise thing, she knew, was to humor him; but it seemed to her that she could not swallow her pride. Ardessa grew yellower within the hour.
Over and over in her mind she bade O"Mally a cold adieu and minced out past the grand old man at the desk for the last time. But each exit she rehea.r.s.ed made her feel sorrier for herself. She thought over all the offices she knew, but she realized that she could never meet their inexorable standards of efficiency.
While she was bitterly deliberating, O"Mally himself wandered in, rattling his keys nervously in his pocket. He shut the door behind him.
"Now, you"re going to come through with this all right, aren"t you, Miss Devine? I want Henderson to get over the notion that my people over here are stuck up and think the business department are old shoes. That"s where we get our money from, as he often reminds me.
You"ll be the best-paid girl over there; no reduction, of course.
You don"t want to go wandering off to some new office where personality doesn"t count for anything." He sat down confidentially on the edge of her desk. "Do you, now, Miss Devine?"
Ardessa simpered tearfully as she replied.
"Mr. O"Mally," she brought out, "you"ll soon find that Becky is not the sort of girl to meet people for you when you are away. I don"t see how you can think of letting her."
"That"s one thing I want to change, Miss Devine. You"re too soft-handed with the has-beens and the never-was-ers. You"re too much of a lady for this rough game. Nearly everybody who comes in here wants to sell us a gold-brick, and you treat them as if they were bringing in wedding presents. Becky is as rough as sandpaper, and she"ll clear out a lot of dead wood." O"Mally rose, and tapped Ardessa"s shrinking shoulder. "Now, be a sport and go through with it, Miss Devine. I"ll see that you don"t lose. Henderson thinks you"ll refuse to do his work, so I want you to get moved in there before he comes back from lunch. I"ve had a desk put in his office for you. Miss Kalski is in the bookkeeper"s room half the time now."
Rena Kalski was amazed that afternoon when a line of office boys entered, carrying Miss Devine"s effects, and when Ardessa herself coldly followed them. After Ardessa had arranged her desk, Miss Kalski went over to her and told her about some matters of routine very good-naturedly. Ardessa looked pretty badly shaken up, and Rena bore no grudges.
"When you want the dope on the correspondence with the paper men, don"t bother to look it up. I"ve got it all in my head, and I can save time for you. If he wants you to go over the printing bills every week, you"d better let me help you with that for a while. I can stay almost any afternoon. It"s quite a trick to figure out the plates and over-time charges till you get used to it. I"ve worked out a quick method that saves trouble."
When Henderson came in at three he found Ardessa, chilly, but civil, awaiting his instructions. He knew she disapproved of his tastes and his manners, but he didn"t mind. What interested and amused him was that Rena Kalski, whom he had always thought as cold-blooded as an adding-machine, seemed to be making a hair-mattress of herself to break Ardessa"s fall.
At five o"clock, when Ardessa rose to go, the business manager said breezily:
"See you at nine in the morning, Miss Devine. We begin on the stroke."
Ardessa faded out of the door, and Miss Kalski"s slender back squirmed with amus.e.m.e.nt.
"I never thought to hear such words spoken," she admitted; "but I guess she"ll limber up all right. The atmosphere is bad over there.
They get moldy."
After the next monthly luncheon of the heads of departments, O"Mally said to Henderson, as he feed the coat-boy:
"By the way, how are you making it with the bartered bride?"
Henderson smashed on his Panama as he said:
"Any time you want her back, don"t be delicate."
But O"Mally shook his red head and laughed.
"Oh, I"m no Indian giver!"
_Century_, May 1918
_Her Boss_
Paul Wanning opened the front door of his house in Orange, closed it softly behind him, and stood looking about the hall as he drew off his gloves.
Nothing was changed there since last night, and yet he stood gazing about him with an interest which a long-married man does not often feel in his own reception hall. The rugs, the two pillars, the Spanish tapestry chairs, were all the same. The Venus di Medici stood on her column as usual and there, at the end of the hall (opposite the front door), was the full-length portrait of Mrs.
Wanning, maturely blooming forth in an evening gown, signed with the name of a French painter who seemed purposely to have made his signature indistinct. Though the signature was largely what one paid for, one couldn"t ask him to do it over.
In the dining room the colored man was moving about the table set for dinner, under the electric cl.u.s.ter. The candles had not yet been lighted. Wanning watched him with a homesick feeling in his heart.
They had had Sam a long while, twelve years, now. His warm hall, the lighted dining-room, the drawing room where only the flicker of the wood fire played upon the shining surfaces of many objects--they seemed to Wanning like a haven of refuge. It had never occurred to him that his house was too full of things. He often said, and he believed, that the women of his household had "perfect taste." He had paid for these objects, sometimes with difficulty, but always with pride. He carried a heavy life-insurance and permitted himself to spend most of the income from a good law practise. He wished, during his life-time, to enjoy the benefits of his wife"s discriminating extravagance.
Yesterday Wanning"s doctor had sent him to a specialist. Today the specialist, after various laboratory tests, had told him most disconcerting things about the state of very necessary, but hitherto wholly uninteresting, organs of his body.
The information pointed to something incredible; insinuated that his residence in this house was only temporary; that he, whose time was so full, might have to leave not only his house and his office and his club, but a world with which he was extremely well satisfied--the only world he knew anything about.
Wanning unb.u.t.toned his overcoat, but did not take it off. He stood folding his m.u.f.fler slowly and carefully. What he did not understand was, how he could go while other people stayed. Sam would be moving about the table like this, Mrs. Wanning and her daughters would be dressing upstairs, when he would not be coming home to dinner any more; when he would not, indeed, be dining anywhere.
Sam, coming to turn on the parlor lights, saw Wanning and stepped behind him to take his coat.
"Good evening, Mr. Wanning, sah, excuse me. You entahed so quietly, sah, I didn"t heah you."
The master of the house slipped out of his coat and went languidly upstairs.
He tapped at the door of his wife"s room, which stood ajar.
"Come in, Paul," she called from her dressing table.
She was seated, in a violet dressing gown, giving the last touches to her coiffure, both arms lifted. They were firm and white, like her neck and shoulders. She was a handsome woman of fifty-five,--still a woman, not an old person, Wanning told himself, as he kissed her cheek. She was heavy in figure, to be sure, but she had kept, on the whole, presentable outlines. Her complexion was good, and she wore less false hair than either of her daughters.