Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1921-08-16
THE DAILY NOVELETTE,
The J. u. p. Letters
BY LAURA REID MONTGOMERY

~ hhct"h
Emma picked up sheet of paper and
fitted IL in her typewriter with half
| smile about her lips. The cylinder that
she had left until the last was the one
she liked best. She had never seen
the correspondent who dictated the let
| ters into the dictaphone from the COM
plant desk, as he had never given her
any work personally, but she liked his
| voice.
"Voices tell so much" she had said
once to the girl next her.
They don't tell me much except a
| lot of words that ] hate to spell.
Makes girl tired to work all day. l
like to work in an Office where there
isn't much to do. Then I'm fresh for
the evening" snapped Maizie, adjusting
glanced in her direction.
Emma was already listening to the
voice that went on slowly and evenly
and her fingers few over her machine.
"I Just know that he is n good tenn
pered man, his voice is always so pleas
ant" she reflected us she finished. a
certain cadence in the modulated tones
had awakened old memories.
| Back in her home town there had been
q red haired, freckled boy, Fred Smith,
whom she had always secretly liked.
The other girls had not cared for him.
His shyness kept him out Of many of
the village affairs. but Emma was al
ways more pleased to have him walk
home with her from church than to
drive with Fenton Bates in his shiny
buggy. After Fred, who wns two years
ahead of her in school, had gone to Chi
cngo to get start in business, Fenton
had called twice on Sunday nights.
which, in that town, signified a very
particular interest, but Emma had not
encouraged him. When she had in her
turn gone to the big city to work she
had dreamed of seeing Fred again, but
after a few weeks in the bustling place,
where one hurrics all through the day
to be ready for the next days work, she
speedily gave up the pleasant hope.
'I could live here for years." she
| thought, "and we would never meet.
I wonder If he ever thinks Of that lit
tie house on the hill where he said
cnce he wanted to buy when he mar
ried?" The expression in the shy,
freckled face had always remained In
her memory; his eyes had told her what
his stumbling tongue had hesitated to
say. She knew that at that time she
had been the girl he wanted to pre-
side over the quaint place half smoth-
cred in tiny yellow roses.
Say, Emma, my mother is sick and
wants me to 60 home. VIII you finish
my letters for me? I've fixed some
notes about the work, so 1t won't be
IN afraid to leave a bit of work over. "
Daisy's voice held frightened note.
| "Of course WILL" Emma responded
| instantly, taking the notes and cylin =
ders over to her desk.
At o'clock Emma was called into
the private office. Her heart gave q
sudden throb she had thought long
ingly of her home town, but she couldn {
afford to lose her work. Owing to the
slack times, many Of the employees had
been dropped.
Miss Gordon?" The busy man at
the desk, glanced up sharply. you've
been taking the letters from the ]. U.
P. complaint desk?''
| "Yes, sir.
You also wrote Daisy Morton's let :
ters today2'
Eyes, sir"
"Dld she leave the copies or only
notes?" Mr.. Blatchford looked down
at the wire basket before him contain
ing Emma's pile of finished work.
Just the notes; her mother Is i'll. "
Emma's forebodings were crystalliz =
ing; there would be changes.
You have been doing the J. u. P.
letters for some months. Miss Gordon.
Do you think you could write those
letters without dictation? The man in
charge is going"
"Going away?" Emma interrupted,
then stopped. What had possessed her
NO" The bushy gray eyebrows
were raised. He wondered at her vehe :