The Storyteller DISCHARGING MARTHA

New Zealand Tablet, 15 July 1909, Page 1083

The Storyteller

DISCHARGING MARTHA

The first applicant to respond to Brice and Pendleton's advertisement for an office-girl appeared fairly promising to Tom Page, who was too busy with tax-titles to look very closely at the young woman ; so Martha Pratt, with ' country-bred ' written all over her, was promptly engaged. At first Martha's innumerable mistakes, were ascribed to her newness ; but by the end of the first . week, when no improvement was visible, Mr. Brice, clearing his throat ominously, waylaid Mr. Pendleton near the street door. 'By the way, Pendleton,' said he, ' that new girl doesn't fill the bill.' ' Tell Page to advertise for another to-morrow,' advised Mr. Pendleton. ' I meant to mention it this noon. He'd better tell the girl, too. Of course, we'll give her a week's warning.' Martha, however, entertained no suspicion of this threatening state of affairs when, the next morning, she bounced into that quiet office, carrying three substantial button-hole bouquets. 'My grandmother sent them,' beamed good-natured Martha, presenting her solid gifts, without a trace of either coquetry or partiality, to Mr. Brice, Mr. Pendleton, and Tom Page. ' They're fresh from the country.' Elderly Mr. Brice glared at the matter-of-fact girl; Pendleton made queer, embarrassed noises in his throat; Tom Page, controlling with difficulty the twitching corners of his mouth, pinned his unexpected gift to the lapel rf his coat. Martha, observing nothing and apparently entirely satisfied with herself, retired to her own corner. Indeed, Martha was not observant. Perhaps if she had been, she, would have made a more satisfactory assistant. As it was, she had much to learn ; but unfortunately no one in that busy office possessed either the time or the inclination to struggle with incompetence. Not only was Martha's ignorance of office methods colossal, but the girl seemed disorderly and untidy to an astonishing degree. ' Her desk was always in confusion. Her figures staggered down the page like a rail fence on end. Her writing was smeared with blots. She eyed these with good-nature' 3 tolerance. ' I never could use -ink without spilling it,' she confessed to^Tom Page. 'We Pratts are generous even with our ink.' \ Yet, in spite of the general untidiness of • Martha's belongings, about the girl herself there was a clean wholesomeness that was rather • pleasing* She was not a pretty girl. Her countenance was too broad, too freckled, ,too ruddy for beauty ; but the linesg of her large mouth were neatly cut, and her big brown eyes fairly beamed with honesty and kindliness. However, in the frigid atmosphere of Brice and Pendleton's it was not customary for the clerks to beam with anything." Tom Page had recognised that fact at once, and had promptly suppressed his own natural tendency toward exuberance. But Martha, who lacked Tom's keen perception, remained her simple, kindly, radiant, and disorderly self. - Of course, neither Mr. Brice nor Mr. Pendleton, with Martha's unwelcome gift perched on his desk, could bring himself to the point of mentioning the matter of\Martha's dismissal that morning. It seemed too much like betraying a trusting child. So, all unconsciously, Martha had postponed the evil moment. Then, before the flowers had quite faded, beaming Martha appeared one morning with six splendid, big, red apples in a plebeian yellow paper bag. ' Uncle Ben sent them,' explained Martha, who, ?n spite of the announced fact that she was an orphan, seemed bountifully supplied with country relatives. ' There isn't another tree like that in our country. Eat them right now ; they'll take you back to boyhood.' Again Mr. Brice glared at Martha; again Mr. Pendleton made queer, embarrassed noises in his throat; again Tom Page struggled with his twitching lips. All three • were at an utter loss of words. But they ate the apples, for such perfect fruit was indeed rare. And again was the moment of Martha's dismissal postponed. Before the memory of those delicious apples had quite vanishe<fT*Slartha arrived one rainy morning accompanied by a large circular object, which she unwrapped on Mr. Brice's sacred desk. It was a pie — a huge, thick, golden pumpkin pie with a tender, fluted crust. ' Aunt Julia made it,' confided radiant Martha. ' I noticed you had a cold, Mr. Pendleton, and I thought this pie might save your going out to lunch; but there's

plenty for all — wait, here's a knife and three forks. This is all your pie; I had mine for breakfast.' It was certain that no pie had ever before been eaten in the formal, business-like atmosphere of that expensively furnished office. But, little as the idea appealed to them, the three nonplussed men ate Aunt Julia's handiwork and found it extremely good. Martha's numerous relatives, it developed, were not only generous, bub well-to-do. They were fond of ambitious, orphaned Martha ; and, being kindly disposed generally, were interested in her employers. They were as simple and as guileless as Martha herself. In Ridgeway it was customary to give way to generous impulses. Tliat this was not the fashion in the business circles of Bolton was an idea that had not occurred to any of the Pratts. During the noon hour one day the three men found themselves alone. » ' Pendleton/ said Mr. Brice, eyeing the golden russet pear on his desk, ' that wooden-headed girl is buying us.' ' Yes/ agreed Mr. Pendleton, glancing at the twio pear on his own desk, 'she certainly is; but she doesn't know it — I'm convinced of that.' ' Perhaps not/ returned Brice, doubtfully ; ' but the fact remains that we've been bought. What are we going to do about it? I — well — I can't eat a pear like that and then deliberately crush the donor.' ' It's a tough proposition/ admitted Pendleton. ' There's a first-rate girl in Hooper's/ suggested Tom Page, ' that we could have for the asking. They're 1 cucting down their office force. We could let Miss Pratt do the drudgery — there's enough of it, and she's certainly willing enough. That would let her down by degrees, and give us the efficient help that we lack at present. 3 Thus weakly temporising, the partners agreed to this plan. The new girl, Miss Emmons, proved all that Martha was not. Neat, slender, efficient, self-contained, Miss Emmons was like a piece of well-oiled, office furniture. Within forty-eight hours of her arrival Messrs'. Brice and Pendleton were all but oblivious to the fact that Miss Emmons existed. They did realise, however, that the office work was going with unprecedented smoothness. Martha realised it also. But Martha could not regard the new-comer- with indifference. To the deposed clerk Miss Emmons was a revelation. Her clothes, her reserved yet assured manner, most of all her systematic neatness, profoundly impressed country-bred Martha. There was no doubt about her unstinted admiration for Miss Emmons. Martha began at once to copy the older girl's clothes, her way of doing her hair, hex! noiseless manner of moving about the office. She even tried to imitate Miss Emmon's neat figures and precise handwriting. By the end of a fortnight, ill-taught Martha' was improving by leaps and bounds. | , 1 Well/ said Tom Page. ' c I never supposed she had it in her, or I'd have given her a lift or two myself. Perhaps, after all, there's the making of a business woman in her. Perhaps she was merely raw and green. They say that width between the eyes denotes intelligence ; the width's there, all right., 1 But of course Brice and Pendleton's is no kindergarten for greenhorns; we couldn't be expected to teach her. But she's certainly "picking

There was no doubt about it, Martha was ' picking up.' But in one respect she was still unchanged. Russet pears from Uncle Rowan, Baldwin apples from Uncle Ben, Aunt Julia's famous pumpkin pies, and bouquets from Grandma Pratt's luxuriant house-plants, continued to invade the; office. . . Whenever one of these incongruous gifts arrived,' Miss Emmons wore a superior smile, which Tom Page easily interpreted, but to which Martha remained sublimely impervious. The thanks of Miss Emmons for her share ii these gifts were delicatelyi ironical. This also missed fire with honest Martha. One morning the usually prompt Mr. Brice arrived late. It was evident to the least- observant that he was suffering with a stiff neck. Mr. Brice at his best was an unapproachable person ; Mr. Brice in pain was formidable even tb his most courageous relative. Mr. Pendleton wisely postponed certain business matters that he had intended to mention; Tom Page quietly effaced himself; Miss Emmons as quietly became a piece of insensate office furniture; but Martha, nothing daunted, exclaimed sympathetically : ' Mercy, Mr. Brice ; you must be feeling just awful ! I had one of those necks once, and it hurt like all possessed. I'm real sorry for you.' Mr. Brice glowered, Mr. Pendleton pulped, Tom Page controlled his treacherous lips. Miss Emmons shot a satirical, yet guarded, glance in Tom Page's direction. • Don't worry/ assured oblivious Martha ; '_it won't last long/ .

That noon Martha was late; she was likewise flushed and dishevelled from unusual exertion. She placed a tall, brown bottle on Mr. Brice's highly-polished desk. ' Sorry I'm late/ said she, easily ; ' but I had to go 'way out to Cousin Sarah Calliper's for this mixture. It's the best stuff ever made for stiff necks. Take off your collar and rub this liniment on the cords. Don't be afraid; Cousin Sarah made it herself.' Even on the hottest day of midsummer Mr. Brice had never committed the impropriety of removing his coat or loosening his collar in that austere office, but now, under Martha's compelling eye, the collar came off, the evilsmelling liniment went on. ' Now/ said Martha, producing a compact roll of coarse flannel, ' wrap this about your neck.' Mr. Brice, still glowering, obeyed. There was simply nothing else to do with those kindly, insistent brown eyes compelling him. Mr. Pendleton considerately removed himself from the premises; Tom Page discovered instant and pressing business within the fireproof vault. At intervals during the afternoon Martha insisted on fresh applications. At closing time, Mr. Brice, whose bravest relative would have hesitated, in a matter of life or death, to ask- him to carry a parcel, walked meekly out of the office with a big, brown bottle distending the pocket of his faultless coat. A muffler, impulsively borrowed by Martha from Tom Page, mercifully concealed the red flannel. And then Miss Emmons, who felt that matters had gone far enough, turned to beaming Martha. In cold, cutting, unmistakable "words she told her that she was a simple-minded greenhorn; that office-girls were expected to work, not to conciliate their employers with foolish gifts; that when a business firm employed a girl it did not wish to be burdened with obligations to all that girl's relatives. She ridiculed the apples, the pears, the pumpkin pies, and the brown liniment. She made poor Martha see how ludicrous a thing it was for old Grandma Pratt to send her home-grown bouquets to such men as Messrs. Brice and Pendleton and Tom Page. There was no doubt that Martha needed some such lesson; but, as the well-aimed blows landed neatly, the girl fairly staggered under the battery. ' I—lI — I didn't know/ she gasped. Then, plunging blindly into her wraps, Martha fled toward the elevator. ' That was a hanged shame/ confided Tom Page to the contents of his desk. 'No man could have Tcnifed her like that.' Thereafter there were no more apples, no' more pears, no more pies. When Tom Page came down unmistakably with quinsy, Martha, knowing that her home contained the perfect remedy, remained outwardly as impassive as Miss Emmons herself. Then came the startling days of the panic. Brice and Pendleton found themselves suddenly and uncomfortably involved. For a week even obtuse Martha could see that Messrs. Brice and Pendleton were exceedingly troubled. She gathered vaguely that an alarmingly large sum of money was needed for some immediate contingency; that the money was not forthcoming, and that the world in general was not to be apprised of the pressing need. She learned, too, that both Mr. Brice and Mr. Pendleton had tried, and failed, to secure a large portion of the needed amount; and that both men were surprised, shocked, and bewildered at finding the firm in this unlooked-for predicament.

But Martha was now sophisticated. She knew now that she lived in a world where it was not considered proper to ' rush in ' with eager offers of assistance. It was not in Martha, however, to permit even an ice-clad employer 'to sink with human aid in sight. A month previously, the task would have seemed simple. Now, enlightened by Miss Emmons, Martha found it exceedingly hard to extend to the drowning men her straw even though it proved, like her apples, pears, and pies, ratter a substantial straw.

Yet, gathering all her courage, she forced herself t» cross the room under the fire of Miss Emmons's hard, inouiring eyes, and to stand, inwardly cringing; leside Mr. Brice's desk. 'Mr. Brice/ said she, abject in her consciousness and crimsoning and paling by turns, ' I know now that it isn't proper for me to offer to do anything more in this office than you tell me to do. I've learned that — and I'm awfully sorry I have learned it, because we Pratts like to do things for others. I guess it's part of our religion out in Ridgeway; but I see now that it isn't that way in towns. But — but — well, would eighteen thousand dollars be of any use to you ?'

'Use!' gasped Mr. Brice, clutching the arms of his chair. ' Use ! Why, girl, if I could have that sum before noon to-morrow it would *just about save Brice and Pen. djeton/

' Well,' returned Martha, now as calm as if she were lightly proffering eighteen cents, ■* Uncle Ben, Uncle Rowan, and Uncle Henry — he's Aunt Julia's husband — could lend you that much money and hold their tongues about it. If you'll ride out to Ridgeway with, me now, you can fix it up with the men folks.' Leaving Mr. Pendleton, Tom Page, and Miss Emmons gasping like three freshly-landed trout, the senior partner and Martha departed hurriedly to catch the suburban car. ' That girl,' said Mr. Pendleton, recovering finally, 'is as sound and wholesome as one of Aunt Julia's pies.' 'And her kind,' agreed Tom Page, 'is as rare as that apple-tree of Uncle Ben's.' ' Fortunately,' breathed Miss Emmons. 'No,' shouted Mr. Pendleton and Tom in chorus.