The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1885-08-26
Selected.
MY SECRETARY.

III town, and | more humCly undertook the
county branch, and obeyed his behests
down in Liverpool. had only seen him
very occasionally, for thou h he was re-
ported TO be AS kind as he was eccentric,
we did not pull very well )gether. Hence
my grief at his decease WAS deep enough
to be respectable, and having installed our
chief clerk at Liverpool, cheerfully came
up to the London office as my uncle's sole
heir This identical morning, on which |
way rolling downward In Fulham bus,
was the first on which | was going regular
ly to work.
There were eleven of US inside, and when
the conductor gave us hasty survery, and
then opened the door, | am sure there
was not one among us who did not sincere
ly hope that the new conner might prove
tolerably linn mau. Instead of a man it
was girl.
She slipped into the vacant place and
then we were off again. She was a partic-
ularly nice girl. Her hair was yellow, Der
lips were red, and her eyes were blue, aud
such vivid little bit Of coloring was
quite relief after the stolid monoto-
ny of the bearded faces round her. He.
ulster was thin and worn, and her gloves
were a miraculous proof of how much
darniug one pair could stand; but ii was
neither her pretty face nor her shabby
clothes that attracted me. No; it was her
own exceeding happiness. She was child
ishly happy; almost idiotically so, l
thought at last, for there she was, with her
big eyes sparkling with fun, and the dim
pies playing at hide. and-seck round her
mouth. What on earth was she thinking
about? She could not have been more
than nineteen or so, and carried with her a
Toll of manuscript in husiness-ike sort of
way as if the document We're her own.
When l was put down in Flint street, |
noticed that she, too, left the omnibus, but
l was not prepared to see her precede me
into the office and vanish up the staircase.
An my life | had nourished special detes-
tation for writng-women; so it was with
considerable amount of anger that turned
round on old Jones, who had seat in the
lower room, and asked him who was the
lady who had Just passed me.
Old Jones was my uncles foreman--an
ancient highly-respectable, not-to-be-got.
rid-of sort OF man, who had come into
the office at such remote date that it was
lost in the midst of the Middle Ages.
Lady ~ echoed the foreman, "I-Oh
yes to be sure. | beg pardon, sir, but for
the moment thought you meant someone
with letters or manuscript, and they al
ways come in here. If she went straight
upstairs it was Miss Charity Lander"
"What does she want, and who is she?"
| asked and if old Jones had thrown ii
lhunderbolt by way of answer | could not
have been more astounded than was by
his reply.
"Sbe is your secretary" he said.
"My secretary!" | exclaimed. Good
Heavepsl l won't have a girl for secre-
tary."
"You must" said old Jones, and then he
proceeded to explain.
Mr.. Landor it appeared, had been my
uDcle's secretary for some three years,
when one morning his daughter had ar
rived in his stead saying that her father
was unwell, and might she not undertake
his work for cou pie of days' My uncle
agreed, ard the girl did the work, and did
ii so cred itably, old Jones declared, that
his master was only too glad to retain her
when it proved that, as regards writing,
paralytic stroke had placed Mr.. Landor on
the shelf.
"Aud So" pursued my informant "Miss
Charity has been here going on year now,
and if you dismiss her-you'll excuse me,
sir-but youl get yourself into pretty
pickle. She knows all about everybody,
and the correspondence, aud"
"Ths is poor rubbish" | Interrupted
loftily. for it was hardly soothing sug-
gestion that my future success depended
on slip of girl.
had snug quarters-a toierahly good
sized room, where my uncle used to sit 10
state, and an inner one, very much smaller,
where / found Miss Charity Landon. She
looked desperately industrious, perfect
model of IA secretary, IN fact, when l nrsl
peepcd into the room. for she as seated
at the able, with a whole pile of papers
h e I. I'D n,r oil m m n ru
idly along, while the orthodox little bust
ness frowp drew the pretty eyebrows near
or together.
Good morning" and l walked into the
room.
Good morning, Mr.. Blake" said the
gill. She rose and held out her hand. 81
hope you will approve of me, but perhaps
you don't approve OF women secfetariesf
'No, l don't" l said blunly; "hut |
should be very sorry to cause yon any IN
convenience; so, suppose We say that, Tor
one month, things shall go on AS they are.
The girls fac fell.
Business is business; did not want
girl in my Office, and l told her so. Fur
thermore, l explained my views of wom-
ems duties in general, and finished by hint
ing pretty plainly that thought she would
be far better at home nursing her father.
1
her that she had not tried to coax a more
gracious answer from me. With such
face-with such eyes, who COLD resist herY
Did she know how beautiful she wasf
Pshaw! every woman knows that.
Our paper was simply chit-chat on the
topics OF the day, and steered toerably
clear of scandal. There were science pa
pers, and book papers, and the only anus
ing column was one that was devoted to
miscellaneous gossip, and was signed,
"The Man About Town" The style was
clever and easy and nourished secret
but profound admiration for my unknown
contributor. Looking over his latest arti-
Gle, it suddenly struck me had never been
told his name, and put my new secretary
to her first use by asking 1t OF Miss Charity
Lander.
"Hope," said girl, The never calls
Mr.. Blake used to write to him."
81 should like to see him." | answered.
do you not admire his writings, Miss
Landor."
mot particularly" she replied. at
reads to me as II he put In good deal Of
rubbish by way Of padding"