Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1918 — UNPAID ACCOUNT [ARTICLE]

UNPAID ACCOUNT

By VINCENT G. PERRY.

(Copyright, 1918, by the McClure Newspa per Syndicate.) It was monotonous work Ina Walker was doing, making out accounts fori the month. She had made it a practice to find something interesting in all her work and as she typed each statement she broke the monotony by trying to draw a mind picture of each person for whom she was making out a bill. She stopped her machine as she came to a familiar name on the list —Mr. Lawrence Wright. y “Hasn’t this Lawrence Wright paid his bill yet?” she asked Mr. Armstrong, the office manager. “His subscription is nearly three years in arrears, and I have billed him every month for at least two years.” “No, he hasn’t, and I don’t see any way of collecting it. We have sent a collector there half a dozen times, and the last time he was nearly thrown out. There is nothing for it but to keep rendering the account. That’s the way -with these young fellows with more money than brains. Just try it yourself, Miss Walker,” the head collector flashed. “I will, and collect it, too; If Mr. Armstrong will consent,” she laughed, delighted at being able to ruffle the calm of the collector. “I am willing,” the manager consented. “You can start out now if you like.” Ina had not been quite in earnest, but she would not withdraw after making the boast. She went back to her typewriter and worked mechanically until she finished the accounts, and then unconcernedly put on her hat and started out to collect the bill. On the car she tried to remember how she had pictured Mr. Lawrence Wright, but she had pictured him so often, and each time differently. She would show him that she could hold her own with any man, and tell him just what she thought of him if she didn’t get a check to cover the amount of the bill. He lived in a fashionable apartment house. She envied him that, even though he were fat and pompous. She rang the bell at the door bearing his name plate. The door opened and the man before her was fat and pompous. A second glance told her it wasn’t Mr. Wright; it was a butler in livery. “What name?” asked the butler. “I am from Mr. Janes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. It was a bold step, but she felt it was necessary to gain an entrance. After all she was representing the president of the Times indirectly. The butler ushered her into the reception room. She waited uneasily, her eyes taking in the room. It was very tastefully arranged and decorated. She hoped Wright would not appear in a bathrobe —men in bathrobes were one of her aversions. She was examining a beautiful reproduction of a masterpiece on the wall when a slight sound told her some one else was in the room. She tried to sink back in her chair quickly, but realized in time it would be a clumsy move, and straightened up to face a tall, handsome man. He could not help seeing the surprised look on her face, but she knew he did not know it was because she had pictured him as fat and pompous; she was thankful he didn’t. “Did you wish to see hie?” he asked pleasantly. His voice w r as In keeping with his appearance. “Yes; I have a small account here for your Times subscription. It is just fifteen dollars —for three years, in arrears, you know. I W'ould not have called, but we have mailed you a bill add we thought it likely you had let it sIH) your notice and would think us careless if we did not remind you.” “Hasn’t this bill been paid?” he exclaimed in true surprise. “I will write you out a check at once. This is just another of the bills I find my secretary has neglected. For three years I have been leaving my affairs to him, and he has made a muddle of them. I believe I could have done better myself.” “I am sure you could,” Ina said earnestly. “It is a mistake for a man of brains to leave his business for others to do. Goodness knows what harm an unscrupulous secretary can do to a disinterested employer.” “Thank you for calling me a man of brains,” he smiled. “I believe you are right about the rest of it. That comes from allowing another man to handle your funds and open your mail. I don’t believe I can trust another one to do these things again.” “I should say you couldn’t. Why don’t *yow try a woman secretary?” she suggested. “I never thought of that. How would you like the position?” he asked. “Oh, I wmsn’t thinking of myself,” she blushed. “I know’ you weren’t,” he replied. “But I think you would suit me.” . They w’ere waiting at the office for Ina with the expectation of a good laugh, but the laugh was on her side. The smile on her face told them? that tjie njinute she entered. “I' collected the money,” she laughed, flourishing the check. They gathered around her to hear I her experience, but she wasn't yery communicative. j “He was a fine man and it was the fault of a dishonest secretary that he didn’t pay before,” was all she would say. - A full confession had to come when she resigned her position on Saturday night