Part 39 (1/2)

Danny was a wise old bird whose chirpings were well worth listening to.

What he prophesied for George seemed likely enough of realization. The new affair, though confessedly pseudo, was cheering from the first. This was to be expected so long as Ellen, notwithstanding her scoffing, was a little miffed. Rosie saw, though, that, in spite of being miffed, Ellen was still perfectly sure that she did not want George for herself. The only feeling she seemed to have in the matter was annoyance that he should no longer be wanting her. At first Ellen was so outspoken in this annoyance that Rosie was able to whisper triumphantly: ”You see, Jarge!

Didn't I tell you!”

There were other things occurring just at this time which served to keep Ellen irritable and sensitive. Her experience in stenography was, throughout, unfortunate and was making her see in almost everything that happened a slight to herself. To Mrs. O'Brien's prolonged amazement, the heads of various firms continued their insulting treatment of Ellen, discharging her on the slightest provocation or no provocation whatever, and never giving the poor girl, so her mother declared, anything like a fair trial.

”Now what I would like to know is this:” Mrs. O'Brien would begin in the evening as soon as Jamie, poor man, was quietly settled for his bedtime pipe; ”how can they know what Ellen can do or what she can't do, never giving her a decent show? The last six places she's been at they've only kept her a day or two days at most. It's me own opinion they don't want a good stenographer. I believe they're jealous of her! I tell you, Jamie O'Brien, it's fair disgraceful, and if I was a man, which I'm thankful to say I ain't, I'd go down there and give them fellas a piece of my mind!”

To Ellen herself, Mrs. O'Brien was, as usual, both sympathetic and voluble. ”Don't you mind what them fellas say to you, Ellen dear,” she would advise at each fresh disappointment. ”You've had as fine a schoolin' as any of them and there'll come a day when they'll all have to acknowledge it. And when they talk to you again about your spelling, you can tell them for me they're mighty smart if they're able to prove what's the right and what's the wrong way to spell a word nowadays. If I was you I wouldn't worry me head one minute about a thrifle like spelling. I'd just go ahead me own way and remember I was a lady and, take me word for it, some of these days you'll hit an office that is an office with fine men at the head of it, able to know good work when they see it and willin' to give credit for it!”

Ellen shared to a great extent her mother's belief in her own ability, and she tried to share likewise Mrs. O'Brien's firm conviction that there was a deep-laid plot to keep her down. In her mother's presence it was easy enough to believe this, but Ellen was too quick-witted to deceive herself all the time and, as the days went by and her failure in stenography grew more and more apparent, she began to lose her air of aggressive confidence and to show in a new sullenness of manner the chagrin and the disappointment she was feeling.

There was no dearth of trial places, as the supply of offices in need of stenographers seemed to be unlimited. So, in the matter of actual earnings, Ellen was doing pretty well. Indeed, her first experience was repeated more than once and she was overpaid in order to be got rid of more quickly. At such times she took the money greedily in spite of the attendant mortification. Mrs. O'Brien saw no cause for mortification but would declare complacently: ”Ha, ha, the villians! 'Tis conscience money, no less, that they're paying you! They know they haven't given you a fair show! But don't you mind them, Ellen dear. The right office is comin' yet--you can depend on that!”

Mrs. O'Brien's faith was steadfast and at length had its reward. Ellen came home one evening flushed and triumphant. ”Well,” she announced, ”I've struck it right at last!” Her eyes sparkled with renewed a.s.surance. ”No more running around for me, a day here and a day there!

I'm fixed! Eight dollars a week to begin on and fifty cents advance every month!”

”I'm not one bit surprised!” Mrs. O'Brien cried. ”I knew just how it would be! Now tell us all about it!”

”It's a real estate office,” Ellen explained; ”Hawes & Cranch. Mr. Hawes is my man. I'm to take his dictation in the morning and get the work out in the afternoon and attend to his private phone. It's a big office.

They've got two other stenographers and a book-keeper. By tomorrow Mr.

Hawes is going to have my desk put into his room. He's an awful nice man. He says he never had any one who took his dictation better and he says I certainly do understand all about business punctuation.”

”I'm sure you do!” Mrs. O'Brien agreed heartily.

”And I wasn't there more than a couple of hours when he said he knew I'd suit and the position was mine if I wanted it.”

”Do you hear that!” Mrs. O'Brien gasped. ”I'm not one bit surprised!”

”And he apologized for starting me so low. He said it was a rule in their office. He talked like I ought to be getting twenty a week easily.”

”And so you ought!” Mrs. O'Brien declared. ”And I must say, Ellen dear, if I'm any judge of men, this Mr. Hawes is a fine fella! Mind you're always respectful to him!”

Ellen laughed. ”He's not that kind of man at all! He's just as friendly as he can be.”

For a moment her mother was anxious. ”I hope, Ellen dear, he's not too friendly.”

Ellen tossed her head. ”Even if he was, I guess I know how to take care of myself!”

In Mrs. O'Brien confidence was restored. ”Of course you do, Ellen dear.

I trust you for that.”

Terry looked at Ellen sharply. ”Say, Sis, is this fellow married?”

”Er-a-not exactly,” Ellen stammered. ”I wasn't going to mention it, but since you ask me I might as well tell. They say he's divorced.”

”Divorced!” That was a word to startle Mrs. O'Brien's soul. ”You don't say so, Ellen! I'm sorry to hear it! I'm not so sure you ought to stay with him.”

Ellen laughed. ”Ma, you make me tired! Divorce is so common nowadays, it don't mean a thing! Besides, it wasn't his fault. Miss Kennedy, one of the other stenographers, told me so.”

Mrs. O'Brien was plainly relieved. ”I must say I'm glad to hear that. I suppose now she was one of them dressy, lazy, good-for-nuthin's that nearly drove the poor fella mad with her extravagance. There are such women and a lot of them!”