Sioux County pioneer. (Fort Yates, Sioux County, N.D.) 1914-1929, 1914-12-11

NMMMM[MN 100000 Ml0l
Copyright BY Erederi
Six months of bad luck had logged
the footsteps of Mrs. Emma McChes-
ney, travelling saleswoman for the T.
A. Buck Featherloom Petticoat COM
pany. New York. 1t had started with
a six-weeks' illness endured in the dis
comfort of a stuffy little hotel bed
room at Glen Rock, MINI. By August
she was back in New York, attending
to out-of-town buyers.
Those friendly middle western per-
sons showed dismay at her pale, hol-
low-eyed appearance. They spoke to
her of olive oil taken thrice a day, of
mountain air, of cold baths, and, above
all, of the ACCESSIBILITY of leaving the
road and taking an inside position. At
that Emma McChesney always showed
signs of unmistakable irritation.
In September her son, Jock McChes-
ney, just turned eighteen, went blithe-
ly off to college, disguised as a mil
lionaire's son in a blue Norfolk, silk
hose, flat-heeled shoes, correctly
mounted .walrus bag, and next-weeks
style in fall hats. AS the train glided
out of the great shed Emma McChes-
ney had waved her handkerchief, smil-
ing like fury and seeing nothing but
an ipdistinct blur as the observation
platform slipped around the curve.
In October it was plain that spring
skirts, instead Of being full as pre-
dicte /, were as scant and plaitless as
ever. That spelled gloom for the pet
ticoat business. It was necessary to
sell three of the present absurd style
to make the profit that had come from
the sale of one skirt five years before.
The last week in November, tragedy
stalked upon the scene in the death at
Marienbad of old T. A. Buck, Mrs. Nc
Chesney's stanch friend and beloved
employer.
They had understood each other,
those two, from the time that Emma
McChesney, divorced, penniless, refus-
ing support from the man she had
married eight years before, had found
work in the office of the T. A. Buck
Featherloom Petticoat company.
Old Buck had watched her rise from
stenographer to head stenographer.
from head stenographer to inside
saleswoman, from that to a minor road
territory, and finally to the position of
travelling representative through the
coveted middle western territory.
Old T. A. Buck, gruff, grim, direct,
far-seeing, kindly, shrewd-he had
known Emma McChesney for what she
was worth. Once, when she had been
disclosing to him a clever business
scheme which might be turned into
good advertising material, old Buck
had slapped his knee with one broad,
thick palm and had said:
emma McChesney, you ought to
have been man. With that head on
a mans shoulders you could put us out
Of business"
/ II could do it anyway" Mrs. McChes-
ney had retorted.
Old Buck had regarded her a mo-
ment over his tortoise-shell trimmed
glasses. Then, II believe you could"
he had said quietly and thoughtfully.
That brings her up to December. To
some few millions of people De
c-e-m-b.e-r spells Christmas. But to
Emma McChesney it spelled the dread.
ed spring trip. It spelled trains stalled
in snowdrifts, baggage delayed, cold
hotel bedrooms, harassed, irritable
buyers.
It was just six o'clock on the eve.
ming of December 9th when Mrs EN-
ma McChesney swung off the train at
Columbus, O., five hours late.
Columbus, Ohio, was a Featherloom
town. Emma McChesney had fond
ness for it. with its half rustic, half
metropolitan air. Sometimes she
likened it to country girl in a velvet
gown. and sometimes to city girl in
white muslin and blue sash. Singer
! & French always had Featherloom
window twice year.
The hotel lobby wore a strangely de-
serted look. December is a slack
month for actors and travelling men.
Mrs. McChesney registered automatic
ally, received her mail, exchanged
61O0IAu6o Will ku0 dAdUl0 C10Eh
Send my trunks up to my sample
room as soon as they get in. Three of
'em-two sample-trunks and my per-
sonal trunk. And I want to see q por-
ter about putting up some extra tables.
You see, I'm two days late now. ex-
pect two buyers tomorrow morning %
Send 'em right up, Mrs. McChes-
ney," the clerk assured her. "Joll at
tend to those tables. Too bad about
old Buck. How's the skirt business?''
Skirts? There is no such thing"
corrected Emma McChesney. gently.
"sausage-casings business. you mean
Guess you're right, at that. BY the
way. how's that handsome youngster
of yours? He's not travelling with you
this trip?"
i There came wonderful glow into
Emma McChesney's tired face.
cocks at college Coming home for
the holidays. We're going to have a
dizzy week in New York I'm wild to
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