Evening star., 1923-07-08
YRTLE COREY married the
Briggs boy and things began
to go to wrack and ruin in our

office. Old Preston Gibbs was
Zoo slow to handle all the thousand little
details connected with the business Of
publishing a small-town daily newspaper.
Old Pres knew he was failing
down on the job" and the knowledge
made him more nervous and slip
Shod than ever. Besides, he needed
the sixteen dollars which he drew
every Saturday afternoon, because
his wife was in poor health and he
had butterfly daughter, Ruth, born
late in his married life. who was
graduating from high school and un
reasonable at times in her demands
on her fathers thin purse. His at
tempts to maintain the pace were
pathetic He was a bookkeeper of
the old school, and his years sat
heavily upon him. The sun of his
commercial worth had set, and he
knew it.
One day George Kenyon, our make
up man. couldn't get his ad proofs
corrected promptly in the front office,
and as that delayed the makeup. he
finally came in and talked curtly to
old Pres
The old man broke down and shed
tears. for which George was imme-
diately ashamed and sorry. George
said that since Myrtle had gone the
front office was a COB of gloom any
how, and ought to have somebody
like Happy Sally Brown in 1t to
cheer things up. That gave us the
IDEA. We reached her by phone and
explained what we wanted. 1t was
about 2 o'clock OF a Friday after
noon when she responded in person.
Her real name was Evelyn Brown,
but she was Happy Sally to all and
sundry.
She was q maiden lady who would
never see thirty-five again, with eyes
and hair as black as the wing of a
raven and a figure that reminded
Uncle Joe "of the Great Eastern in
fog" At times in the spring she
walked with a slight limp. a chronic
muscular affiiction.
well" she declared cheerfully, as
she limped in, I'm here, Can I get
the job?"
"You can if YOU fill the bill" Sam
Hod answered. When could you
start?
"Now." said Sally.
How much will you work for?"
Fifteen dollars" she responded
promptly. We had paid Mrytle eigh-
teen.
You're hired" declared Sam ANY
thing is better than this"' And he
made a despairing gesture that in
cluded the heaps of proofs. corre-
spondence and general clutter spread
over the office furniture and floor.
Old man Gibbs looked up at the
girl plaintively. Sans declaration
was a slam at his inefficiency. But
Happy Sally only gave him wink.
The telephone bell rang. The edi-
tor reached for it
'IlI answer it," said Sally
She tossed her coat and hat at
hook and by some miracle they struck
it and clung. She took the phone re-
ceiver in one hand, scraped around
among the papers with the other and
found a pencil, kicked her rubbers
off under Myrtle's fat-top desk, called
CHEEKY "Hello" into the transmitter
and bit off chunk of the pencil in
her fine hard teeth to get at the lead
SO she could write.
She got the item from the phone,
meanwhile spreading the papers
about the desk into orderly piles, and
never missing a syllable.
You don't mean Henry Wright;
rected. Hen wright's dead" She
= \
knew every man, woman, child and
dog by their first names, and who
their forebears were, and how they
We're connected, and where every man
worked, and how much money he
drew, and how he got along with his
wife and his wifes relations.
She was more the wonder because
she did it all without conscious effort.
No one ever saw Happy Sally in
hurry.
TT had been o'clock when she came
i in. with proofs to read and a pa
per to go to press. Everybody was
fused up with the heavy week end
load of Friday advertising. BY 8
o'clock every proof had been read and
was out on Georges stone. She had
answered the phone twenty-one times
and gathered every loose paper in the
office into one big pile which by 4
o'clock was sorted. Letters, many a
week old, were put aside to be an
swered as required. Worthless stuff
was jammed into a wastebasket.
At o'clock Sam came in from the
back room with some moist copies of
the paper; the duplex was grinding
away merrily.
Whats happened to my desk?" he
demanded
II cleaned it off," said Sally. 81
thought it needed it,"
Sans eyes shot to her own desk
and he noted that for the first time
in months he was beholding on Myr-
ties desk nothing but spotless new
blotter an inkwell, a telephone and
a tray of clips.
Great Caesar! Where's the stuff
gomez" he demanded.
IL filed it," replied Sally.
But the letters!'
'I answered most of them. The rest
are in that little wicker basket
awaiting your attention"
Sam sat down weakly. The thing
was epochal.
You ought to get woman in here
to clean this place." suggested Sally.
Nobody can keep their work up in a
grubby office"
81 don't know where to find good