Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-10-25
THEEvEV|NcSTO
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Lost and Found Desk.
Copyright. 1913. by W. wernsr.,

Copyright. 1913, by W. werner)
Miss Maybry listened courteoualy. That
was what she was paid to do. Il had
been her work for more years th&n she
cared to remember. He was a tired man,
rather shabby. with tanned hands. plainly
from out Of town. and not used to city
crowds. He had lost the pocketbook
near the drugs and toilet articles coun-
ter-he was sure Of that. because he
opened 1t there to pay for bottle OF
perfume for Lindy. Three minutes later,
when he stopped at the handkefchiefs,
he missed It It held $3.50.
Miss Maybry drew her black eyebrows
close together annoyediy. The store did
not care for the reputation Of having
large sums lost In II. Pickpockets. OF
course, had got It. It was now an hour
Any clerk would have reported It II It
had been found. And IL he had left II
on a counter, as he half thought, II
like to tell him how unlikely he was
ever to see 1t again She .jotted down
his name and address-a hotel OF the
kind patronized by cattlemen and farm
ers-told him to come back the next
morning for news. and as soon az he
who also was annoyed. It was his bust
ness to keep the store cleared OF pick
pockets, and loss OF this amount would
bring him q repramand
James Powell was back az the nexs
scarcely put away her purse and got
out her black sateen apron before he
appeared, anxious and questioning. She
guessed that the loss was serious ana
dashed his hopes az gently az possible
diately engrossed by worried norman
who wanted to know II an alligator bag
containing two receipts for preserves.
powder puff and IL cents in change had
been turned in yet. Then cash girl
that very morning in the lavatory. proba-
bly, by one Of the salesgirls. The tele-
phone tangled meanwhile. She picked up
the receiver while taking the bracelet.
mo. madam. your gloves have not yet
ceiver up it tangled again: Had 2 silver
mesh bag been handed in? Miss Maybry
answered that 1t had not and jotted 1t
down on the memoranda pad.
James Powell went away, saying that
he would be back at noon. She scarcely
saw him go. Her eyes, gray and alert.
were scanning the pad. And she had to
make out her weekly report that morn
ing. The two vertical lines between her
eyes deepened to a frown Of absorption.
the incessant jangling of the phone. an6
wrote again. If you had asked her II
she was tired she would have said stoutly
no. Yet over her hung faint air OF
weariness-that WEAKNESS which IL pro-
duced only by day after day of monoto-
nous work.
For eighteen years she had sat at that
lost and found desk. Her first bungling
assistance had long ago given way to
parrot-like adaptation. At first 1t had
been interesting. So many people: and
all angry or worried or in despair. But
eighteen years had dulled the interest.
There were so many people. Except for
an extra large loss. which the heads Of
the firm might take displeased notice Of.
Miss Maybry heard the various happen
ings Of the day with courteous unconcern.
She was a slim, prim woman, not good
looking. She never had been that, even
that first year, when she was only seven
teen. Her hair was too smooth and
coiled too sedately. Her mouth was too
large and her complexion only mediocre.
Only a pair of keen. gray eyes, shad-
owed by black brows and lashes, re.
deemed her. And those eyes had always
been, too matter-of-fact and Unconditional
to attract men. Women, however, no.