White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1932-04-14
"A NoueI by Henry KitcheI Webster

all right. She and dad used to talk at
length and in particular about things
they would do when they w're rich.
They planned trips to Europe or to
Honolulu and Japan. They weren't
serious about it of course. 1t was all
fooling, each playing up to the other
and trying to go him one better.
Mother never took part in these talks,
Edith noticed, and she confessed at
last that they made her rather uncom-
Portable. She continued stoutly to as
sert her belief in her husbands enter
prise, but she couldn't bring herself TO
joke about it.
Sometimes dad came home silent
and depressed, and if he talked at all
it would be unbearably about bills
and expenses and things they couldn't
afford. That mood Of his always re-
duced Edith to despair. She had, be-
sides, black moments Of her own. One
Of the worst of these was occasioned
by her first visit to the factory.
It was in rather jubilant spirit Of
adventure that she set out, which
made the shock of coming down to lit
eral reality all the worse. Nothing
less explicit than the sign, newly
painted on the shabby brick face Of
the building, could have convinced her
that she'd come to the right place SO
the cloud castle of her dreams came
down to this This was where they
To Che
tried to laugh at herself, but couldn't.
Her panicky impulse was to drive
away again and pretend she'd never
come, but she was trembling so, she
was afraid she couldn't drive Finally
she went in through the grimy little
door that said "Office' on it.
Dad was there sitting at desk,
and seemed pleased as well as sur
prised to see her.
"Sit down." he said. "I'll be
through in a few minutes" After
apparently hesitating moment he in
troduced to her the man who sat OPP
posite him at the desk. His name was
Weed, and she thought him detestable.
The other occupant Of the room he
didn't introduce. He was younger,
perhaps. He had thick dirty-looking
skin and a pimply face, and he sat
morosely at typewriter pounding out
a letter rather slowly with two thick
fingers. She turned her chair a little
to make it easier not to look at him.
She'd made occasional visits to her
fathers old office and the contrast
really was appalling. That had been
in its sober way palatial, furnished
with great dull mahogany desks and
leather chairs. But this place! Why,
it was hardly clean. 1t wasn't, really.
And it was shabby. The floor was
bare. And to think Of poor old dad
having to come to a place like this
1t was pitiful.
The pimply young man whom she
couldn't bear to look at must be dads
stenographer. She thought Of his
stenographers at the other Office and
shuddered at the contrast. Dad
couldn't have made the change Of his
own free will He must have lost his
other job-got fired, instead of having
resigned-and hadn't been willing to
tell her. Did mother know the truth,
she wondered?
Another man came into the office
! from the shop. A workman in over
| alls his face and hands streaked with
| dirty machine oil like a man in
garage He asked "Is Mr.. Mariner
| coming back this afternoon, Mr.. Pat
| terson?'
II believe not" dad said. And then
to her amazement he stopped the man
before he could go back into the shop.
"Oh, Charlie" he said, "wat min
ute. l want you to meet my daughter
Edith. Edith, this Is Charlie Frank
| lin."
Charlie seemed to have an idea Of
shaking hands, and he rubbed his hand
on his overalls, but then he looked at
1t and laughed. II guess it'll hardly
do" he said. And then. "You haven't
seen our shop yet, have your"
Luckily dad answered for her. mo,
it's her first visit. I'll bring her out in
minute"
"It's pretty dirty out there" Charlie
said, "and it isn't Strengthened out yet.
but we're really making something
there, Miss Patterson"
She liked Charlie Franklin-you
couldn't help liking anyone who spoke
as pleasantly and comfortably as he
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