Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 158, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 July 1915 — HIS OPPORTUNITY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIS OPPORTUNITY

By GEORGE MUNSON

John and Cynthia were to be married when John was raised from twenty to twenty-five. But Christmas came, and John received no notification of an increase. *1 think it’s a shame, John,” said Cynthia, weepily, as she contemplated another year of spinsterdom. “Why don't you go to old Hart and tell him how badly you need the raise? I am sure you are doing two men's work in that old office.” “Why, dear!" exclaimed John, aghast "If I were to do that they would simply give me my discharge. Nobody ever goes to Hart. He is unapproachable. He has no more sympathy than a stone." “Oh, John, are you sure you have enough initiative?” wailed Cynthia. “You know, they never, never pay anybody more than he is willing to take.” “1 tell you it’s no use, dear,” John answered. “You see, I understand conditions there, and so —” And so that was the way it went. And John toiled at the office all through the dreary winter, and he had never bad to work so hard before. It was as Cynthia had said. He was doing two men’s work for Hart. He began to grow desperate. Hart was becoming more and more unsympathetic. He practically told John he was not worth his salt. He hinted at changes in the staff. John began to study the Sunday newspaper advertisement columns. On the very first Sunday he saw an advertisement which seemed to have been Inserted specially for him. “WANTED," it ran, “an expert in the wholesale stationery trade, with complete knowledge of stock. A young man of not more than five and twenty years, who is willing to work up with an old-established firm. Salary to start, 3125. Apply by letter, with full particulars, to P. Q., Box 195.” That was John’s line. Moreover, he was sure he knew who It was that advertised under the initials P. Q. That must be Quincy, Hart’s chief business rival, who had been engaged in a cut-

throat competition with him for years. How he would welcome a man with John's experience, especially when he was taking him away from Hart! Cynthia lived with her mother in a tiny uptown apartment. When John had read the advertisement he hurried round to consult with the ladies. John wag a favorite of Mrs. Barton’s; she had been as eager as a girl about the: marriage, and its postponement had been a bitter disappointment to her. “Fm going to write Quincy a strong letter,” said John. “I feel sure that I can get that position, only—l’m not much of a hand at blowing my own trumpet.” “You are too diffident, my dear John,” said the old lady. “Let us put our heads together and see whether we qan’t show up your good qualities. If we can’t, nobody can.” A little praise from Mrs. Barton, a little tender love from Cynthia, a little eagerness on John’s part, and a touch of bitterness at the memory of Hart, and the following letter was produced: “In answer to your advertisement, I beg to say that I think I am just the mar, for the position. I am twentyfive years of age and wish to make a change. lam at present employed in a wholesale stationery house and have a complete knowledge of the business. I am planning to leave because I am worth at least $125 a month and am getting less. I wish to enter the service of an enterprising firm that knows a good man when it has him, and if you will accord me an interview I believe we can come to terms.” The last sentence, to which John demurred, was the product of Mrs. Barton’s brain. It seemed to the women just the sort of letter calculated to appeal psychologically to Quincy. They said so and John was forced to agree. He watched Hart narrowly the next morning. Somehow he felt as if a vast load had been lifted off his mind. He no longer feared Hart, he no longer dreaded to go into the little booth where he had his desk. Threats would leave John unmoved. He dreamed away the morning, in fancy seeing himself al the altar with Cynthia, and

in his pocket the price of an extended honeymoon tour through the South. At lunch time the office boy told John that Hart wanted to see him. When John entered there was a frown on Hart’s forehead that boded ill. "Mr. Darrell, we have been thinking of making some changes in the office,” said Hart. “I have been under the impression that you were not altogether satisfied with your position here.” “No, sir,” said John. “Eh? What’s that?” snapped Hart, looking at him menacingly. “You aren’t? Why didn’t you tell me?” “I think I am worth more money, sir,” sard John, respectfully. "In fact, I—l am sure of it.” “Then that is the explanation of this letter which 1 received from you this morning,” said Hart, flinging John’s missive down on the table. John felt his blood run cold. It was one thing to leave Hart triumphantly, to go to Quincy; it was another to be kicked out before he had secured another position. “Of course, if you are not satisfied, Mr. Darrell," continued Hart, more blandly, “you are at liberty to leave us. But we are enlarging the department, and I wanted to get another man as assistant preparatory to advancing you to a higher position at $125.” Which was not strictly true. Hart had advertised for another man, but he had Intended to keep John In the same position at the same salary, and all his expressions of discontent on previous days had been directed toward frightening John lest he should make a demand on him. The new man was to have superseded John. “If you like to take the position it is yours, Darrell,” continued Hart. John looked at him in stupefaction. It seemed too good to be true. He was appreciated, then. His employer had recognized his years of service! Hart turned on the reproachful tap. “If only you had let me know that you wanted more he said. “Why, sir, doesn’t everybody want more money?” asked John. “They do. But those that get-Jt—-ask for it. Not that I intend to advance you further —for a year, at least,” he went on, hurriedly. “But if you would like to start in at >125 next month you may.” “I want to ask for a couple of weeks’ vacation first, sir,” said John. “You see, I —l’m going to be married.” “Why, certainly—certainly, Darrell,” said Hart, hastily. "Congratulations, I’m sure. Er —good-morning, then.”, . When John was gone he leaned back in his chair and smiled. He would give the new man John’s salary. And John, a married man, would never write such a letter as the one that had terrified him that morning. Hart’s reasoning was sound enough; only he did not reckon on John’s mother-in-law. For a wise mother-in-law is a man’s good providence. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.)

“Then That Is the Explanation of This Letter.”