Saturdays Child | Page 7

distressed murmur of concern and pity rose all about her, everyone
patted her shoulder, and bitter denunciations of Mr. Brauer and Miss
Kirk broke forth. Even Hunter, Baxter & Hunter were not spared, being
freely characterized as "the rottenest people in the city to work for!" "It
would serve them right," said more than one indignant voice, "if the
whole crowd of us walked out on them!"
Presently Susan indicated, by a few gulps, and by straightening
suddenly, that the worst of the storm was over, and could even laugh
shakily when Miss Thornton gave her a small, fringed lunch napkin
upon which to wipe her eyes.
"I'm a fool to cry this way," said Susan, sniffing.
"Fool!" Miss Cottle echoed tenderly, "It's enough to make a cow cry!"
"Not calling Susan a cow, or anything like that," said Miss Thornton
humorously, as she softly smoothed Susan's hair. At which Susan
began to laugh violently, and the others became almost hysterical in
their delight at seeing her equilibrium restored.
"But you know what I do with my money, Thorny," began Susan, her
eyes filling again.

"She gives every cent to her aunt," said Miss Thornton sternly, as if she
accused the firm, Mr. Brauer and Miss Kirk by the statement.
"And I've--worked--so hard!" Susan's lips were beginning to tremble
again. But with an effort she controlled herself, fumbled for a
handkerchief, and faced the group, disfigured as to complexion,
tumbled as to hair, but calm.
"Well, there's no help for it, I suppose!" said she hardily, in a tone
somewhat hoarsened by tears. "You're all darlings, and I'm a fool. But I
certainly intend to get even with Mr. Brauer!"
"DON'T give up your job," Miss Sherman pleaded.
"I will the minute I get another," said Susan, morosely, adding
anxiously, "Do I look a perfect fright, Thorny? Do my eyes show?"
"Not much--" Miss Cottle wavered.
"Wash them with cold water, and powder your nose," advised Miss
Thornton briskly.
"And my hair--!" Susan put her hand to the disordered mass, and
laughed helplessly.
"It's all right!" Thorny patted it affectionately. "Isn't it gorgeous, girls?
Don't you care, Susan, you're worth ten of the Kirks!"
"Here they come now!" Miss Murray whispered, at the head of the
stairs. "Beat it, Susan, don't let 'em see you!"
Susan duly fled to the wash-room, where, concealed a moment later by
a towel, and the hanging veil of her hair, she could meet the Kirks'
glances innocently enough. Later, fresh and tidy, she took her place at
her desk, rather refreshed by her outburst, and curiously peaceful in
spirit. The joys of martyrdom were Susan's, she was particularly busy
and cheerful. Fate had dealt her cruel blows before this one, she
inherited from some persecuted Irish ancestor a grim pleasure in

accepting them.
Afternoons, from one o'clock until half-past five, seemed endless in
Front Office. Mornings, beside being exactly one hour shorter by the
clock, could be still more abbreviated by the few moments gained by
the disposal of hats and wraps, the dusting of desks, sharpening of
pencils, and filling of ink-wells. The girls used a great many blocks of
yellow paper called scratch-pads, and scratch-pads must be gotten
down almost daily from the closet, dusted and distributed, there were
paper cuffs to adjust, and there was sometimes a ten or fifteen-minute
delay before the bills for the day began to come up. But the afternoons
knew no such delays, the girls were tired, the air in the office stale.
Every girl, consciously or not, sighed as she took her seat at one
o'clock.
The work in Front Office was entirely with bills. These bills were of
the sales made in the house itself the day before, and those sent by mail
from the traveling salesmen, and were accompanied by duplicate bills,
on thin yellow sheets. It was Mrs. Valencia's work, the easiest in the
office, to compare originals and duplicates, and supply to the latter any
item that was missing. Hundreds of the bills were made out for only
one or two items, many were but one page in length, and there were
several scores of longer ones every day, raging from two to twenty
pages.
The original bills went downstairs again immediately, and Miss
Thornton, taking the duplicates one by one from Mrs. Valencia, marked
the cost price of every article in the margin beyond the selling price.
Thorny, after twelve years' experience, could jot down costs,
percentages and discounts at an incredible speed. Drugs, patent
medicines, surgical goods and toilet articles she could price as fast as
she could read them, and, even while her right hand scribbled busily,
her left hand turned the pages of her cost catalog automatically, when
her trained eye discovered, half-way down the page, some item of