Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-08-27
WPER G.

"MR. BRoNsoNP Oh YES, YOU will
find him in his private office, up three
flights; turn to the right, No. g.
Thanks" and the compactly-built,
stalwart man in brown linen ulster,
thread gloves, and Panama hat, ran,
satchel and umbrella in hand, up the
three flights of black, dusty stairs, UP,
up through the gloomy halls of the great
business house, turned to the right down
a narrow space lined with offices, with
open doors to get the circulation from
the stairways, and paused at d" No. 6 d"
A slight, graceful, pale-faced little wo-
man glanced up from pile of letters.
" MIR. BrOnsonP Oh, yes, sir. Walk
in, please" "Mr. Bronson, a gentle
man."
just commonplace, everyday meet
ing between two large hearted men who
had maintained business relations for
years, entertaining the very highest re-
gard for each other meanwhile, without
having once met face to face.
"Mr. SturtevantP Is it possible! 1
am glad to see you, sir" And the two
sat down and fell into a chat, which
settled the Western man in his half
formed opinion, that your genuine, sub
stantial, out-and-out New Yorker, is the
representative man of America; and
made the city man say to himself, "What
hearty frankness your real Western
man brings into everything. Nothing
dwarted or contracted about him. His
heart and his opinions are as broad and
as breezy as his own rich prairies." ="
"Where do you stopP" as the
visitor and longtime customer
arose. "Don't knowP Allow me to
suggdt that you go to the St. Nicholas
with me, then. I'm there for little
while, while my folks are out of town
and the house is being brushed out. 1
will go with you. was Just going, in
fact. Miss Clark, will leave this last
account for you to balance - Oh, want
you to see Miss Clark This is Mr..
Sturtevant from Chicago"
Your name and your handwriting
are entirely familiar, Mr.. Sturtevant, r
said the pale-faced young woman, with
whom the visitor had first spoken, leav-
ing the desk by which she was standing
and coming forward toward the inner
office, which was formed by heavy let
green curtains, looped back across a
windowed niche, making pleasing de-
lusion of seclusion and of shade.
We learn to feel acquainted with
people by their handwriting, remarked
Mr.. Bronson, pleasantly, as he drew on
his gloves. son that principle, you two
must know each other quite well by this
time"
"And you are per C.'P" queried Mr..
Sturtevant, looking critically down into
the young woman's delicate, finely-cut
face. Snow, have habit of coniur
ing people up from their handwriting.
and the per c. have keptin mind ali
this time was a methodical, clear-head-
ed, old graybeard whom all the sharp
ers in Gotham couldn't get around, and
find the real per c. to be but a mere
thistle down or frost flower! Well,
well!"
"You were not very far astray in your
character estimate, however, smiled
Mr.. Bronson, tipping his light hat down
over his dusky black eyes. -
"'Per c. is the most efficient helper
that a perplexed merchant was ever
blessed with. The firm would have been
bankrupt had it not been for her. Fact,
sir. At my father's death things were
in bad shape. The head bOok-keeper,
who was also partner, had been max |
ing false entries, and the accounts were
in the most inextricable tangle. They !
baffled me, and employed an expert |
to straighten them, but he gave them up |
in despair. Miss Clark, who was then |
in the lower office, volunteered her as
sistance. She went through them all at
odd hours, and brought every thing out
straight. To prevent exposure, the |
partner refunded what he had embez- |
zled. l boughtin all the stock, and kept
on with the business"
Mr.. Sturtevant looked at the quiet little
woman with more admiration than if |
he had just heard that she had painted |
a picture, written book, or awakened |
slumbering goddess from a block Of
marble.
1t was not much to do" she said,
in deprecatory tones. "I had an ex-
perience with my fathers books-only
unhappily-and the partner had not the
embezzled funds in reserve, and the
house went down"
"Good afternoon, Miss Clark" and
the two handsome, healthy gentlemen
started, full of life and spirits, to run
down the stairs.
Mr.. Bronson returned almost imme.
diately to say: "Never mind about
those last bills. / shall be in early in
the morning." and finding the little
gray dressed woman sitting at his desk
in the shadow of the deep green cur
tains in detected attitude, looking so
like a crushed, wilted flower that he
could but wonder what had so quickly
changed the bright, pleasant face that
had just smiled back at him from the
doorway.
"This hot wave is something fearful, p"
said Mr.. Sturtevant, as his companion
regained his side. al don't see how
you can stand it here week after week"
"Oh, run up the Hudson, where my