Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 220, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 September 1916 — The Modem System [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Modem System

By C. H. REEVES

(Copyright, 1916, by W. G. Chapman.)

Mr. Sampson Waters glared at pretty Miss Jones, the new employee in the haberdashery department of the great Fitton store. Miss Jones had been at work a week, and Mr. Waters had taken a decided liking to her. After gallantly promising her to see that the road was made easy for her, he had ventured on a familiarity when they found themselves alone in the doorway for a moment Now the tingle of pretty Miss Jones’.hand across his cheek smarted still. ' . Waters was the superintendent of the haberdashery department, and the dreaded tyrant of all the girls. They knew that their positions were ht the man's mercy. Nobody had so much Influence with Fitton as he. A word was as good as a command, it was said.

-» Fitton had never run his store very successfully. He had inherited it, which was the principal reason. He leaned more and more on his employees. He was an old man, and when his daughter, now at Vassar, came to the ownership—well, Mr. Waters smiled. He expected the general managership of the sales department. And Fitton had as good as promised it to him. There were stories about him, concerning. Nelly Gregg, who had disappeared from the store a year before. One of the girls hadseen her on Broadway late at night, and Nelly had shrunken from her and hurried away. That Waters was a married man was known, and the girls often speculated what sort of woman had been Willing to take him. Of course, the man was at his ease among the rowdy element, but many a

modest girl shrank from the thought of attracting him. And Mr. Waters felt particularly vicious toward Miss Jones. He went up to her that evening, just before closing time. “I want to speak to you,” he said. Miss Jones put down her account book and waited patiently. “I guess you weren’t feeling well this morning, kiddo,” he said. “That was a pretty raw thing you did. I wouldn’t stand it from anyone but you. How about Coney tomorrow night?” “I don’t know what you are talking about," said Miss Jones, turning scarlet with indignation. “Well, then, I’ll explain,” said Waters, leaning heavily upon the counter. “Mr. Fitton thinks a good deal of me in this store. He doesn’t care what goes on so long as the sales keep up to the mark. He leaves me to keep them up in any way I think best. And what I say goes with hiih. Get that?” ' Miss Jones nodded. “Got anybody to take care of you?” pursued Mr. Waters. “Living at home or alone?” “If you mean that as a question,” answered thtffgirl, “I live at home with my father, and he supports me.” “Well, six dollars wouldn’t go very far,” answered Mr. Waters thoughtfully. “Still, I guess you’d hate to go hope and tell the old man you’d lost your job, wouldn’t you?” “I certainly should,” answered Miss Jones. “Now you’re talking sense,” said Mr. Waters. “WelJ, then, I want lively girls in my department. And not little spitfires. So you’d best make up with me and come to Coney tomorrow night, and I’ll give you a good time, kid. What?” Miss Jones bit her lip and reflected. “I’m sorry for what I did this morning.” she said penitently. “And Til go with you to Coney.” “Now you’re talking sense,” said the manager, mollified. He glanced quickly ah«jt him. “Let’s kiss and make up," he added. Miss Jones extended him a frigid cheek, but Mr. Waters seized her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. He saw her eyes fill with tears and ■mled approvingly.

"You’re a little peach, girlie,” he said. “I’ll wait for you at the aide door at seven tomorrow.” At seven o’clock he met Miss Jonee as by appointment and escorted her to the surface car. “We’ll get supper put there,” he said. “Lobsters and beer. Then we’ll take in the shows.” All the way down to Coney he congratulated himself upon his partner. Miss Jones was well bred, there was no doubt of that. She was in a class by herself. He began to anticipata an enjoyable summer. “What’s that umbrella for?” he demanded. “Why, it might rain, you know,” faltered Miss Jones. Mr. Waters roared with laughter. “Yes, and it may snow, or hail,” he mimicked. “Say, if you ain’t the limit I But I guess I’ll educate you." They had supper together at a flashy restaurant, filled with overdressed youths and girls. Under the stimulus of the beer Waters became exuberant In his professions of admiration, and he hardly noticed that Miss Jones only tasted hers.

“Now for the shows,” he said. “Scenic railroad first, kid. I’ll show you something.” They entered a car and shot down a declivity Into a dark tunnel. Mr. Waters seized Miss Jones in his arms and clasped her to him, while he kissed her again and again. When they emerged into the light he saw that she was crying. She clutched her umbrella tightly. “Well, of all the dead sports!” he exclaimed. “You’d carry that umbrella to your wedding, I guess, Dorothy.” Miss Jones returned no answer. They took in a number of other shows. “I must be going home now,” said the girl, as they passed the terminal. Mr. Waters laughed. “Come and have a whisky,” he said. “It’ll cheer you up. Say, what’s the matter? You look as If this was -your funeral.” “My father will wonder where I am,” faltered the girl. “Ah, cut it out,” said Waters. “Say, Dorothy—” and he whispered something in her ear. The girl turned and looked at him fixedly. In the Intense light, among the moving crowds, they might have been alone, for none noticed them, each person was bent upon his own amusements.

“It’ll be all right,” coaxed Mr. Waters. “I took to you from the first minute I saw you, kiddo. I said to myself, ‘that girl’s a good-looker if ever there was one. And she needs a protestor.’ Them fellows at the store are a pretty tough lot! Now, if you treat me right I’ll treat you right, I swear. My wife’s going to leave me —yes, I knew you’d heard about her from those old hens behind the counter. They’re always ready to stick a knife into a feller. Anyway, she’s goinjf to leave me, the Lord be praised, and I’ll do the right thing by you just as soon as I can get the divorce. What do you say, girlie?” At that moment, before Miss Jones could answer, an elderly gentleman, with a scholarly look, which would have made it almost impossible to identify him with the ownership of a department store, came slowly toward them from the crowd. Mr. Waters cursed under his breath. It was Mr. Fitton. “Say, there’s the boss,” he whispered to the girl. “Be a good sport, kid, and play up to me.” “Good evening, Waters,” said Mr. Fitton casually. “Seeing the sights?” “Yes, sir,” said the manager. “I came down to have a look about me,” said Mr. Fitton, watching Miss Jones rather Intently, and then looking inquiringly at Waters. “My sister-in-law, sir,” said Waters. “Came up to town from Pennsylvania this morning, and the wife asked me to bring her along to Coney and qhow her the sights.” “I am surprised to hear you say that, Waters,” said Mr. Fitton, mildly. “How, sir?” inquired the other, unabashed.

“Because she happens to be my daughter,” returned his employer. ‘Just horde, from Yassar and studying the methods In the store in anticipation of the day when she will take hold.” “I’m going to take hold soon,” said Miss Dorothy. “I’m sorry for what I did to you yesterday, in the doorway, Mr. Waters. I’m sorry I didn’t do more. But I’m going to now.” And before anyone understood what was happening, she had deftly unfolded her umbrella and pulled out a lithe and very interesting horsewhip. “Great Caesar!” shouted the manager, putting up his hands. “Don’t use that on me. I’m sorry, Miss Fitton. If I’d have known who you were—” Whir! The lash colled itself about his legs, and he leaped and yelled with agony. Instantly a crowd gathered about them. Whir! It descended on t*be manager’s back and shoulders. Waters turned to fly, but the erod'd,’ shouting approvingly, barred nis way. The way the girl plied the lash was something to be remembered, everyone agreed. In half a minute Waters was rolling on the ground in agony. And the lash never ceased till Waters tainted from sheer pain and terror. Then Miss Dorothy broke the butt across nis shoulders and left him. “You see, father, dear, it takes modern methods to run a department store," she explained to the old gentleman, who had reluctantly agreed to meet her there that evening. And, escorted by a cheering throng* their auto rolled away. '

“I'll Go With You to Coney.”