Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-06-19
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR JUNE


hour, for along about three o'clock | strolls
into the audit department, and there's old
| Dudley back on his perch writin' away again.
Say, are you it?" says l.
why, how is that?" says he.
Did they tie anything to your" says 1.
"You know-con you into takin' the blame
or anything like that?'
Blame for what?" says he. Il don't be-
lieve l understand. But nothing of the sort
was mentioned. l was merely given some
instructions about my work.
Oil" says l: "That's all, Ell? And
you gone right at it, have you2"
am writing out my resignation
What! Quittin'?" says |. Say, don't
you see what hole that puts you in? Why,
it makes you the goat for fair! If you do
that you'll need bail inside of forty-eight
hours-and you won't get it. Look here.
Dudley, take my advice and tear that up"
But l can't, Torchy," says he, really,
1 can't"
"Why not?" says 1. you've got
couple of hands, amt you? And what'll you
do for another job if you chuck this one?
Say, why in blazes are you SO anxious to
take your chances between Sing Sing and
the bread line?"
HE'S there with the explanation, all right,
- and here's the way it stands: Uncle
Dudley has been called on because his par
ticlar double entry trick is to keep the run
of the private accounts. All they want him
to do is to take descriptions of couple of
checks, dig up the stubs, and juggle his
books so the record will fit in with nice
new set of transactions that's just been in
vented for the purpose.
But what checks?" says l. 1.-The five
thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?"
Why, yes" says he. How did you
know"
"Ah, how did l. Say, Dudley, amt you
been readin' the papers lately?" says l.
Would you believe it? He don't know any
more about what's in the air than museum
mummy knows of Lobster Square. This lit
tie private cyclone that's been turnin' the
office upside down amt so much as ruff1ed
his whiskers. Checks are checks to him, and
these special trouble makers don't give him
any chills up the back at all. He's been told,
though, to use the acid bottle on his books
and write in new version.
"Well, why not do it?" says I. whats
that to you?
"Why, don't you see," says he, ait would
be making a false entry, and-I-I- Well,
I've never done such thing in my life,
| Torchy, and l can't begin now"
And say, what do you know about that,
eh? Just piece of phony bookkeepin' that
he don't even have to put his name to, his
job gone if he don't follow orders, and him
almost to the age limit anyway, with Son in
Law Bennett ready to shove him on the
street the minute he gets the sack!
do you mean it?" says |.
He puts his signature to the resignation
and hands it over for me to read.
"Say, Dudley" says 1, lookin him up and
down, this listens to me like a bughouse
play of yours; but got to admit that you do
it sporty. There's no ocher streak in YOU"
II hoped you would understand" says
he. ''In the circumstances, it was all l
could do, you see"
"What see palmer anything else" says
I, "is that if this goes through your career
is plugged to the limit. When do you want
this handed in?"
"As soon as possible" says he. Il sup
pose 1 ought to resign at once
"Resign!" says l. You'll be lucky if the
old man don't have you chucked through the
window. Better be waitin' down in the
lower corridor when l spring this on Mr..
Ellins."
Nothin of that kind for Uncle Dudley,
though. He starts straightenin' up his desk
as l goes out, as calm as though he was
house cleanin' for vacation.