Evening star., 1924-01-06

" " across his office ana nnally
met the eye OF his secre-
tary, who sat, with eXpectant pencil,
waiting to seize the next words his
boss should utter.
i've forgotten something" said
waring Cant think what it is"
Vickers waited.
Don't you know" Waring asked.
NO, SIR" said the secretary. Your
day sheet is clear.
Got it, said Waring after another
ten seconds of abstraction. Letter to
my wife" He looked at his watch,
caught up his hat and moved toward
the door. You write it," he said.
"Going to Pittsburgh. Back Sunday
morning"
Yes, sir" said Mr.. Vickers.
Waring had been chosen by a COM
mittee of chastened creditors as the
one man, perhaps in the United
States who could take the maniacally
complicated affairs of the Ralston
Company in hand and bring it back to
a condition of solvency.
The Ralston plant occupied the
area of good-sized farm In the small
city of Great Bend, where Waring
in the somewhat fictitious hope that
soon he could begin going home over
Sunday. As a matter of fact on Sun
days he and Mr.. Vickers generally
spent about twelve uninterrupted
hours at the Office, cleaning up what
couldn't be done on work days.
This particular Sunday, when he
came back from Pittsburgh, was no
exception. From 9 o'clock to half
past Vickers took down con-
fidential report and series of recon-
- mendations to the executive commit
toe. AS he informed them, in con-
clusion, that he was theirs very truly
Waring picked up a rather feminine
looking note. ripped it open and be-
gan to try to read it.
From my wife," he explained to
vickers. And. after finally getting
clue at the top of the third page he
added: wish she'd take to picture
writing. 1 might read that
But presently he whistled. What
In blazes did You say to her." he
asked Wick ers. Here. Where are
you going:"
Vickers stopped on his way 10 the
door. ITO get the carbon from your
fle,' he said.
"Hmp." said Blake Kept a car
bon, did you? All right, let's see it."
lie read the innocent looking car
bon sheet which Vickcrs placed be-
fore him with sort of Olympian
gloom.
You fell down on me- he said
sadly. That's no sort of letter TO
write mans wife"
sorry" Vickers said.
"Oh. it's all right" said Waring
gloomily. But I've got to square
myself. Get ne sheet Of paper that
folds over"
He picked up a pen and looked at
1t obviously.
The Sabbath calm was broken by
the sound Of people coming in to the
outer office.
Il guess that's the committee on
costs accounting" Vickers said in
answer to Waring'S look of inquiry.
"You told them to come at -
Warfng laid down the pen again and
turned a pleading look upon the Sec
retary.
Part of Vickers' job was to under
stand without being spoken to.
Want me to try it again?" he
asked. Il can do better than that
Didn't quite get the idea
Waring was already on his way to
the door of the directors room.
Put your back into it," he said be-
fore he vanished.
:. :: :: ::
THE young man who remained in
office after the door was shut was
no longer the hundred per cent eff
cient secretary-no longer \. B. War
ing per S. ". but a distinctly engag-
ing young chap by the name of STAN
ley Fickers.
He hesitated a little over picking
up the note that Waring had left on
the desk. but the spirit of his instruc-
tions clearly involved his reading it.
SO he did SO. He meant to do a good
job this time, and it was not without
It's difficulties.
To begin with Stanley Tickers was
new. He had never met Mrs. Waring,
never seen photograph Of her. And
the illegible scrawl her letter was
signed with failed to make it apparent
whether her first name was Annie, or
Anne, or Alice.
In her answer she nau commented
satirically on the MY Dear Wife"
with which he had begun his other
letter, SO he clicked out firmly MY
Dear" and then he stopped and
thought for a while longer.
This wasn't secretarial work. This
was literature! The way to get the
right atmosphere would be to have
some sort of picture in his mind Of
the lady he was writing to. An at
tractive lady? Undoubtedly Waring
had found her attractive once, and it
was a cinch she wanted to think he
thought her SO still. Brown hair,
rather wavy. blue eyes, cheeks without
too much color in them, but bright red
lips. oh, bosh, What was he think
ing of? Waring was easily fifty-five
and his wife. Well, weren't mems
wives sometimes lot younger than
they were? His vision must be the
sort of vision that Mrs. Waring would
like to think she presented to her hus-
band. Cinch! Now to begin. Nothing
fancy. Honest, plain n-spoken--affec-
tionate.
MY Dear:
IT own up. AS you suppose, didn't
even dictate that last letter to you.
! had young vickers, my secretary,
write it for me. and you are perfectly
right to feel hurt about 1t. am
debating this letter to him now, and
! am afraid you will think this makes
my offense all the worse. Well. that
Is what I want to talk about, and