The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1929-09-13
BESS, !.
THE DRESSY'
TYPIST j
e by D. J. walsh,

across the narrow alley that electric
lights must burn all day long. Most
Office working girls know that dead
alive feeling when they are tired QUE
and it seems too late to begin some
new task, yet there is whole half
hour before release.
But fifteen minutes later-how diff
ferent.! A sudden wake-up, closing of
desks, busy mirrors and powder puffs
and squirming about to look for new
runs in their chiffon stockings. Cheer
full exchanges of "What you goin' to
do tonight?"
Voices in the adjoining room and
the pleasant fragrance of cigar pro-
claimed the return of Mr.. Fred Argyle,
the debonair son Of the wholesale
jeweler at the head of this firm. Bess,
the dressy typist, hummed the latest
dance hit as she quickly sorted and
clipped together her many papers. The
clerk, Lillian, eyed her critically from
the top of the sleek brown bob to the
shapely pumps, then announced. Il see
Bess has another heavy date with our
Freddy tonight. All dolled up. You're
fast worker, Kid" With sly under
tones.
"Guess again." tossed Bess, slipping
the cover over her typewriter which,
each evening, she removed to small
desk by the window, leaving her table
clear for other work next morning.
Now she lifted the heavy machine
and, with deft swinging motion,
made the exchange.
"Look here. my young lady!" Fred
Argyle had stepped in and his tones
were cross. "Some fine day that thing
will slip from your fingers and go
right out that open window. Kindly
practice your juggler's art somewhere
else!" "How should l know it's a
window? 1t lets in neither air nor
light" Bess knew the other girls were
snickering into their discreet swan
ities," but she soon babe them good
night as though nothing had occurred.
She walked the two miles home to
avoid the jammed cars and to. enjoy
any possible breeze on the way
through the park. But the more she
recalled that episode the hotter she
grew. "Juggier's art!" And she had
not even been aware how she did ham
die the typewriter; anyway that came
most easily. She had observed that
Fred had never yet offered to lift II
for her. He was too lazy to even reach
across his own desk for the extension
phone-some one must always run AMI
shove it oyer to him! At his present
rate, by the time he reached thirty his
physical profile would resemble that
sunfish she had seen at Field museum.
A week and more passed with no
further mention of the matter. She felt
that Lillian was trying to hide little
triumph-0r trying to display it. Young
Argyle was off on one of his frequent
trips for the company. Bess refused to
acknowledge to herself that she had
developed slight uneasiness and SO
handled the machine with more care
strictly on the sly and taking great
pains that no one should notice it.
Then on Saturday, near quitting
time, the stenographer stepped in from
the outer Office with letter she in
tended to type herself, but, instead of
her usual last-minute haste she de-
liberately placed her ear against the
edge Of the closed door and raised
a hand for silence.
Wondering, the other girls watched
until she tiptoed to them, whisper
ing, Sired is back, but something's
wrong: They're searching frantically
through the SAFE" Then she stole
back to hear more. Lillian followed.
Bess made move to join them
heard steps-and hastily picked up
her already covered typewriter in
stead.
Fred opened the door so suddenly
he nearly upset the two girls there,
but he seemed too agitated to observe
them. did any of you see" he be-
gan. A scream from Bess, a grating
sound, her body perilously out the
window-Fred there, his arm clutching
her back. Then his angry didn't /
warn you that would happen!"
Well, it had. The culprit crumpled
down on a chair, too dazed to utter
a word, unconscious of the chattering
all about her, of the girls earnest
efforts to excuse and comfort her.
Then vaguely aware of a short, testy
argument between Argyle senior and
junior about police efficiency. Next
Fred at the telephone with orders to
have something radio broadcast imme-
diately-great stress on the big cash
reward offered to aid in the return of
something. Rising from the phone,
"You'll find, dad, that cash offer will
bring quicker results than any police
detectives could"
What did all that matter to her?
But the typewriter, new one they
had bought recently at her own re-
quest; they had permitted her to
choose it; its price would come out
of her salary, Of course, even if they
did not fire. her. But remorse and
chagrin cut her far worse than did
that prospect.
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