Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-08-28

~ NE Spring afternoon in th'
first year of the present cen
fury, young man WAS eN
4 perimenting with a typeWrtte
in a brokerage office on lowe
broadway. At his elbow lay an eight
no letter. and he was endeaVofinc
make a copy on the machine, hut
,2ch attempt was married by capltai
sing unexpectedly in the middle oi
word or by the disconcertinG III
,rusion of some symbol, such as OF
e. into an alphabet whose member
,1Ip was set at % many years ago
whenever he detected a mistake, he
,,9ade a new beginning with treSh
.nct. but. after the fifteenth Try. he
vas aware of desire to cast the ma
tljne from the window.
The Young mans short, blunt nm
.,ars were too big for the keys. He
ms big all over; indeed, his bulky
hndv seemed to be in the very process
If growth. for it had ripped his coat
1T he back seam, while his trousers
chung to thigh and calf like skin
i;chts. His hair was yellow and
.ousled-vou could see the paths OF
IS broad fingers in it-and his eyes
we're Of a hard. brilliant blue. but the
lis. dropping a little over them. rein
reed an impression of letharGy that
re clumsy body conveyed. His age
AS p.
What do you think the eraser's for,
.tcComas?"
The young man looked around.
"Whats that" he demanded
"The eraser" repeated the alert hui
,,lan fox. who had come in the outer
IGOR. That there's good copy. eN-
60
or You'll be sitting there until sun
Use"
The human fox moved on into his
r,.iyate office. The Young man picked
I'D the eraser referred TO and flung 1t
,it of the window.
Twenty minutes later he opened the
q or of his employers office. In his
and was the letter, Immediately
ned. and the addressed envelope.
The human fox took it. glanced at
and then looked at McComas.
You didn't use the eraser"
'No, l didn't Mr.. Woodley."
you're one Of those thorough young
non. aren't you" said the fox sar
,aStically.
What"
Il said thorough but. since you
erent listening, I'll change it to
,.aste, Just to avoid a little eraSure
-'aat the best typists aren't too proud
make? DID you waste your time
~ mine?"
4 wanted to make one good copy,
answered McComas steadily. You see,
| never worked a typewriter before.
Answer my question" snapped Mr..
Woodely. when you sat there MAX
tng two dozen copies of that letter,
we're you wasting your time or mine?"
1T was mostly my lunch time" Nc
f'omas replied. his big face flushing to
\ angry pink. I've got to do things
ny own way or not at all.
For answer Mr.. Woodley picked up
tie letter and envelope, folded them.
ore them once and again and dropped
me pieces into the waste paper basket.
That's my way" he announced. ,
Young McComas had taken a step
forward.
by golly"' he cried. why, for
two cents I'd spank you"'
With an angry snarl Mr.. Woodley
Sprang to his feet and threw a hand
iul of change upon his desk.
Ten minutes later the outside man,
coming in to report, perceived that
neither McComas nor his hat We're in
their usual places. But in the private
office he found Mr.. Woodley, his face
crimson and foam bubbling between
his teeth, shouting frantically into the
telephone. The outside man noticed
nat Mr.. Woodley was in daring dis
habille and that there were six sus-
lender buttons scattered upon the
floor.
X X X
IN 1902 Henry McComas weighed 1876
pounds. In 1905, when he jour-
neyed back to his home in Elmira to
marry the love of his boyhood, he
tipped accurate beams at 210. His
weight remained constant for two
years, but after the panic of 1907 it
bounded to 900 about which comfort