Middletown transcript., 1906-02-10
ON ST. VALENTINES NIGHT
BY ". @. FITZGERALD

musical. And say, he had grow
enthusiastic as a boy, did yol
hear her play the violin at th
staff concert? | never hear'
anything like it. One thing wa
what they called a 'chaconne' b.
Bach. Another was q concerto
| of Beethoyen's. I don't pretent
to understand things like that
but blazes !! they gave me tin
creeps and brought tears to ny
eyes! Mr.. Jarman paused at th'
memory, and then relit his cigar
| can give the girl q grand life
he went on between the puffs
She has a mother, Hunt tells me
and | think some small brothers
to help support and educate. I'll
provide for the lot.
Somehow Robson appeared te
have lost interest in his employ
er's philanthropic amours. Have
you spoken to her yet? he asked
listlessly.
Well. not in that way, of course.
I had her pay. raised to fifteen
dollars last week, though. And
see here: in that little cash box
I've put twenty-five thousand
dollars worth of Japanese five
per cent. gold bonds, and an en-.
gagement ring that cost six hun,
dred and sixty dollars. Mr.. Jar.
man was precise in money ques-
tions. I'm going to give her that
box as a valentine, he said com.
placently,
When?
Tomorrow evening just about
this time, when ell the rest are
going or gone. To-morrow's the
fourteenth, ism it? And ] want
you to arrange for Miss Parker
to stay behind, and come and see
me here. And above all, Rob.
son. | want you to be present al
the interview. viii you?
If you wish it, sir.
You're a good chap, Robson,
and I'll see that you don't regret
your devotion to me. He spoke
earnestly, and put his hand on
the young mans shoulder.
The secretary had risen and
put on his overcoat. His hat he
never wore in that elegant sane
tum. Goodnight, sir.
Good night, Robson.
- II
Next day the great business
house was swarmiig and hum
ming like a hive. Mr.. Jarman
seemed brighter and happier
than ever before. Hunt of the
MORNINGS, Sinclair Of the silks,
Morton of the plumes and birds,
wondered exceedingly, and COM
muned one with another. It was
no use asking Alcot Robson for
information; they knew that.
A little before six Mr.. JAR
mans private secretary strobe
through the departments. Men
and girl assistants were covering
the trays of samples with tissue
paper and linen. There were
the usual signs of general exo-
dus. They all had given the best
of their day to their employer,
and now were bent on seizing a
few hours of life for themselves.
You want meP. asked the chief
of the MORNINGS.
No, Mr. Hunt. / want Miss
Parker. Mr.. Jarman wants to
speak to her.
Why, what's the matter? Is she
going to get fred?
Robson smiled.
/ shouldn't wond er, Hunt went
on. She's too big for her place,
that girl. All the restof 'em hate
her shes SO stuck up. E
The secretary said nothing.
If that's SO, thought he, she's
likely to be more stuck up after
this interview.
Where is Miss Parker-?- he
asked.
She's gone up stairs, I think.
But I'll send her to you the mo-
ment she comes down.
And with that Robson strobe
back.
Meanwhile Mr.. Jarman had
grown a little nervous. He told
his secretary as much, with q
queer little laugh. The "valen-
tine" box had been moved TO the
table in the middle of the room
beneath the big chandelier.
Are you sure you wish me to
stay, sir?
: Yes, Robson, this firmly !;
please stay. The thing is more
or less of a business proposition.
I feel that.