Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1918 — Spug for a Day [ARTICLE]

Spug for a Day

By James Osborn

<Copyrl*ht, McClure Nawapafrar Syndloata.) Clarice Wardhata and Nancy Smith had gone through high school together and their friendship was of the sort that could not be altered, even when Nancy went to business school and later took a stenographer’s position in a business office, and Clarice, through her father’s acquired fortune, became one of the most sought after young women in what chose to be called, and was called Society, with a capital S. Clarice did not give Nancy her old •dresses, nor did she try to persuade ’her to attend the parties she gave, to which only folk with very much more money to spend than Nancy had were Invited. When she asked Nancy to her house it was either to enjoy her alone or with a few of the old friends with’ whom Nancy could be most at her •ease. Thus Nancy was never made conscious of the fact that fortune had dealt less kindly with her than it had With Clarice, If indeed it really had. When Clarice first met Robert Harrow and somehow unwittingly charmed ®nd then captivated that inveterate man of business, she did not tell him that Nancy Smith, his .private secretary, was one of her best friends. It was not in the least because she was (ashamed of her association, but because she liked the idea of having a means of seeing Mr. Harrow from another angle than that of society and (country club activities without his (knowing it. Clarice, truth to say, was Idrawn to Harrow almost as soon as he 'was to her, for there was something (about this rather rough strange mixture of a man that charmed women rquite as much as if he had been most (courteous and courtly. Sometimes he (seemed the broadest of men in his (large grasp of events that Clarice disicussed with him, and sometimes the (narrowest in his point of view, that seemed to see only his own business (Interests. Sometimes he seemed the 'most generous and unselfish, and then ithe least generous and most selfish. Drawn though Clarice was to, this much discussed and almost eccentric •young man, she planned to surrender, if she surrendered at all, with deliberation; She had planned not to lose a single trick in the love game she was about to play with this man, who had become accustomed to having things generally his own way in the other games of life. It has been said that a man's stenographer has an opportunity to know him even better than his own wife, for she sees him more hours of the day 'usually, and can study him without (personal prejudice of any sort. Nancy Smith surely knew Robert Harrow better than he knew himself, and It was perhaps not strange that she suspected he was In love before he was willing to admit that fact to himself, much less to Clarice. She had heard from Clarice of the friendship that had •sprung up between her and Mr. Harrow, and with Infinite care sounded her regarding him and so found out Ihow the ground lay. Once Clarice, with an attempt at seeming casual, asked Nancy what sort of a husband she thought Mr. Harrow would make. "I could be hjs stenographer all my Ulfe and enjoy It,” explained Nancy, ■“but I could never endure him as a husband. But with a girl like you, it would be different. 4 You .would collapse after a day in his office; but with all the little feminine witcheries to fall back on you, or a girl like you, I should say, might find him a perfect husband.” “One thing Mr. Harrow’s w’lfe would have to remember, though,” added Nancy, “and that Is that she should' never once let him take her for granted. It would be like taming a lion—once the beast knows his power, the tamer is lost. Some women are cut out for just that sort of thing, you know, and never in a lifetime let their husbands know what meek, tame hearts they have." Nancy and Clarice thus’ discussed Mr. Harrow over the chocolate cups one day at luncheon, late In December, when Clarice had gone downtown for Christmas shopping. That afternoon Harrow gave the switchboard operator gruff orders to the effect that he was “too busy, to be. disturbed,” and then sat at his desk, with no one but Nancy sharing his solitude, looking blankly into space for a full hour, his head bent and his arms akimbo. He started to his feet when he roused himself and paced the floor Impatiently. “Take this.” he .threw at Nancy. “Memcr for the cashier’s office —‘Owing to war conditions and necessity _to curtail every possible expense, we shall -give no gold pieces at Christmas.* ” Nancy took the words down in dots, curves and dashes, and recalled as she did so that, in the flrm of which Harrow was president “war conditions” had meant 25 per cent greater profit than usual. "Take this," he threw o.ut again. “It is for my housekeeper, Mrs. Hawkins. Owing to war conditions, I have found It inadvisable to dispense with any additlonal money in the wages to the , servants this year.* And when you

have done that write a personal letter to my sister, and another to my cousin —the one with six children —and explain to them that as an act of patriotism we ought to refrain from giftgiving this year. It’s just an exchange of a lot of junk,” he went on, more to himself than to Nancy, “between a lot of people that don’t carq two straws for each other. Then write a letter to the matron of the orphan home —the one my mother used to be so much interested in. I’ve previously ordered a doll or a book for each child. Tell them that I feel that would be a needless extravagance. If they are absolutely without necessities let them notify me, and I’ll send them a check. But now is. no time to waste money on mere toys. Let the youngsters make dolls out of sticks and things. They will enjoy them just as much.” Nancy wrote these and a. dozen or so similar letters that Mr. Harrow dictated, and gave no inkling of her own attitude toward the contents of the letters. That night, when Harrow had left rather earlier than usual, the letters, were still on Nancy’s desk, and when she left, a little later, the letters were lying In a mail basket where it might seem that they had been forgotten, but where, as a matter of fact, there was no danger of their being mailed. Nancy hurried from the office to the nearest public telephone booth, called up Clarice and told her she wanted to see her at once and would board the next car toward her house. She hurried to Clarice’s room and talked with her for a short ten minutes, and then hurried home, leaving Clarice ample time for a more than ordinarily elaborate toilet that night. When Mr. Harrow arrived at the Wardham house an hour later, for dinner and a quiet little evening with Clarice afterward, Clarice was In her most bewitching mood and Harrow had nothing of the gruffness that had characterized his manner at the office during the afternoon. He had come w’lth the half conviction that that night he would definitely ask Clarice to marry him and demand from her a definite answer. But when he fell under the charm of her coquetry, for Clarice was irresistible that night, he was full determined, and he was Impatient of the many courses of dinner and the moments that had to be spent with Clarice’s family before they could gracefully find a sequestered spot alone. When they were seated in the music room—Clarice had made an excuse of wishing to show him some new records —he asked her point blank and without wasting time In preliminaries whether she would marry Mm. Clarice looked perplexed. “I’m afraid we ought not to think of it,” she said; “at least, while the war lasts. It would mean to give each other a great deal of love, and, owing to war conditions, we ought not to give all that, do you think so?” Mr. Harrow for the first time that evening recalled his afternoon at the office, and the man that had dictated the letters seemed now like a repulsive shadow of his true self. Clarice explained her friendship for Nancy Smith and Nancy’s hurried call that afternoon, “Don’t think the less of Nancy for it, begged Clarice. “I asked her to let me know just what sort of man you are, and wouldn’t let her tell you that she knew me. It is all my fault.” “If she realized how small I was in writing those letters why didn’t she tell me?” demanded Harrow. “Why did she post them?” “She didn’t post them,” said Clarice. “They are locked in your office.” It was a thoroughly contrite, humbled sort of man that knelt before Clarice’s chair. “If I’ll promise to give twice as much this Christmas, and promise never to be a spug again, will you promise to marry me?” he begged. And of course Clarice said “yes."