Mike Flannery | Page 9

pretty name for a man who pretends to have a right to
say how the English language shall be spelled! Don't I know your
history, Mr. Gratz? Don't I know you had your name changed from
Gratzensteinburgher? And you pretend to be worried because our
President and the most talented men in the country want to drop a few
useless letters out of a measly three hundred words! I tell you these
changes in spelling should have been made long ago. Long ago. This is
the business man's age, Mr. Gratz-and-the-rest-of-it. Yes, sir! And you,
as a business man, should be proud of this concession made by our
most noted scholars to the needs of the business man."
"Look at 'em!" sneered Mr. Gratz, patting the list of three hundred
revised words with his finger, and shoving the newspaper under Mr.
Smalley's nose. "Poor bob-tailed, one-eyed mongrels! Progress! It is
anarchy--impudence--Look at this--'t-h-r-u!' What kind of a word is
that? 'T-h-o!' What kind of a thing is that? What in the world is a
's-i-t-h-e,' I would like to know?"
Mr. Smalley had not been sufficiently interested in the matter of new
spelling to save his morning paper. He had not even read through the
list of three hundred words. But he was interested now. The new
spelling had become the thing most dear to his heart, and he pulled the
paper from Mr. Gratz's hand and slapped the list of words warmly.
"Progress! Yes, progress! That is the word. And economy!" he cried.
"That is the true American spirit! That is what appeals to the man who
is not a fossil!" This was a delicate compliment to Mr. Gratz, but Mr.
Gratz was so used to receiving compliments when Mr. Smalley was
talking to him that he did not blush with pleasure. He merely got red in

the face. "Think of the advantage of saving one letter in every word that
is written in every business office in America?" continued Mr. Smalley
excitedly. "The ink saved by this company alone by dropping those
letters will amount to a thousand dollars a year. And in the whole
correspondence of the nation it will amount to millions! Millions of
dollars, in ink alone, to say nothing of the time saved!" He got out of
his chair and began to walk up and down the office, waving his arms. It
helped him to get hot, and he liked to get hot when Mr. Gratz called. It
was the only time he indulged himself. So he always got as hot as he
could while he had the chance.
"Yes, sir!" he shouted, while Mr. Gratz sat shrunken down into his
chair and watched him with a teasing smile. "And I will tell you
something more. The policy of this company is to be economical. Yes,
sir! And this company is going to adopt the simplified spelling! Going
to adopt it right now! In spite of all the old-fogyism in the world!--Miss
Merrill!"
The office-door opened, and a pompadour, followed by a demure
young lady, entered the room. She slipped quietly into a chair beside
the president's desk and laid her copy-book on the slide of the desk and
waited while her employer arranged the words in his mind. Her pencil
was delicately poised above the ruled page. While she waited she hit
the front of her pompadour a few improving slaps with her unengaged
hand and pulled out the slack of her waist front.
"Take this," said Mr. Smalley sharply. "General Order Number (you
can supply the number, Miss Merrill). To all employees of the
Interurban Express Company: On and after this date all employees of
this company will use, in their correspondence and in all other official
business, the following list of three hundred words. By order of the
president. Read what you have there."
[Illustration: "_Her pencil was delicately poised above the ruled
page_"]
Miss Merrill ran one hand around her belt--she was the kind of girl that
can make her toilet and do business at the same time--and read:

"'General Order Number Seven Hundred and Nineteen. To all
employees of the Interurban Express Company: On and after this date
all employees of this company will use, in their correspondence and in
all other official business, the following list of three hundred words. By
order of the president.'"
"Yes," said the president, tearing a strip from Mr. Gratz's newspaper
that he held in his hand. "Here is the list of words. I want the whole
thing mimeographed, and I want you to see that a copy gets into the
hands of every man and woman in our employ: all the offices, here and
on the road. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," she answered, and then she arose, fixed her neck scarf, and
went out. Mr.