Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 207, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 September 1918 — Shorn Locks [ARTICLE]

Shorn Locks

By BARBARA KERR

(Copyright, 1918. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Percy Grosscup, the -handsomest man of the whole force, came jauntily into the room, smiled patronizingly at the stenographer and proceeded to the desk of his chief to see whether any collections had come for his department His chief was out, but lying open and spread out on his desk was the following remarkable, but self-ex-planatory telegram: “Don’t let Grosscup go pay five thousand worth it appearance asset of office.” As his eyes devoured It and the sense of it soaked In he could hardly hold himself together. “Why, why—five thousand is twice what I asked so They have at last realized what I am worth to them. Ah. Percy, you handsome dog—this means —” and chuckling to himself, he ran his hand through his curly hair, a gentle flush overspread him and, glancing slyly at the stenographer, he hurried out. Getting Into his coat, hastily catching up his hat. and swagger stick, he hailed the down elevator. Smiling at his exultant countenance In its little mirror, he threw back his head to get a refractory curl out of his eyes, straightened his hat, and half audibly chuckled to his reflection — ‘‘.Appearances asset of office.” “Aw, wot’s eatin’ ye? Pretty Percy. Must be a klssln’-bug, the way yq’re lookin’ at yerself!” sneered the elevator boy. A blush spread over Percy’s face at the howl of derisive laughter from the hoy. At another time he probably would have given him a good shaking, but now he was busy formulating his plans which must be executed quickly, 6.0 he had no time to teach the boy manners to his betters. That could be attended to later; there was other and pleasanter business on hand. The telegram was as good as actual money. The firm was never known to go back on a pledge. He would go and bind the bargain with a little down payment on a certain bungalow that he had admired —and so had she — then he could speak of It as his; also he would have set aside for him a certain suite of living-room furniture In a down-town window that he had had his eye on; then he would go and tell the girl and ask her to name the day. It Is quite wonderful how smoothly business runs when the man who has the price sets out to Jjuy. He was so jubilant that he was almost beside himself, but he managed either to suppress the outward signs, or to grin behind his hand, so as not to provoke any more such coarse and unfeeling remarks as those indulged In by the elevator-hop. Millicent Beauchamp lived with a widowed mother in a little cottage at the edge of town and helped out a email Income by teaching primary music classes: She was a wholesome, modest girl with sterling womanly qualities. So when she saw Percy coming, she wisely decided that she would not run away to change her dress, but would meet him as she would any other caller at that hour in the morning. Very sweet and winsome she looked as she swung the door open and asked “And what brings Mr. Grosscup out so early? Do we owe that firm of yours anything? And were you afraid we’d move?” Be It said to the credit of Percy that, despite arrogant egotism, he appreciated her worth, and for just a minute the question almost formed itself In his mind as to whether he was really good enough for her. He answered her laughing question. “If you do owe us anything,” he returned joyously, “that pink gingham dress w'ould just about settle It.” Then almost before he realized it, he was asking her to throw herself Into the bargain. “Are—are you proposing to me?” breathlessly asked Millicent. And Percy swept her into his arms to assure her at closer range that he was. The patter of staccato steps in the hall brought the people down to earth. Disengaging herself, Millicent In -a hushed little voice half whispered: “It’s mother!” But Percy was in one of those exultant, Impetuous moods that carries all before it, and turning hastily, he caught Millicent’s rather chubby little mother in an ecstatic embrace and, kissing her on the cheek with all the air of a happy, teasing son, repeated: "It’s mother!” Then releasing her a little ruefully, he begged pardon, neatly apologized and blamed his impetuosity, and the fact that he had not asked her consent at first, all to the pink gingham dress. Mrs. Beauchamp, very much perturbed, and with two tears that threatened to overflow their banks in spite Of much winking to force them back, •miled a little tremulous consent to •verythlng, then hastened oyt to take Sure of the rebellious tears and left die young people to their wonderful iccupation of planning a speedy marriage. “Well, now that’s settled, and I must get back to work or I might lose my job,” said Percy apologetically, after relating his good fortunes and listening to unstinted praise of his unusual bustoess ability. . Upon reaching the office he. walked

into his chiefs presence and awaited the news. “What, just got in? Late again?” asked his chief, as he jumbled his papers a little as though looking for something. He hated to tell Grosscup what was coming to him. Picking up the telegram, he coughed slightly and said: “Mr. Grosscup, the president thinks that we can dispense with your services after the first of the month.” Grosscup laughed aloud at the joke. The chief looked -at him amazed. “Well, I am very glad that you. take It that way. I was rather sorry for you, but—” His face and manner sobered Percy, who pointed to the telegram and said: “That doesn’t sound much as If I were canned.” The chief looked at the message as If he were really seeing it for the first time. He was seeing what Percy saw. He turned to the stenographer: “Miss Smith, please show Mr. Grosscup how to read a categorical telegram, and punctuate it for him.” Miss Smith, who was sorry for Percy, looked appealingly at the chief, who motioned her to bring the correspondence to his ’desk. . “You saw this before!” asked, or rather, asserted the chief. Percy could not trust himself to speak, but nodded his head. “Well,” said the chief more kindly, “then it will be a pretty hard setback, when you see the real message. To save time and money, we have a sort of code. We try to keep so well posted that few words are necessary. And taking his pencil he punctuated the telegram, and as he read it, ran his finger over the corresponding question in a letter. “The message says: “Don’t.” (Don’t take on another stenographer). “Let Grosscup go.” (Getting more now than he can or will earn till his hat gets down to normal. He ought to be called plain Bighead. Gross-Kopf must have been the original name). “Pay five thousand.” (For house on Beecher St.) “Worth it.” (To pay S2OO to remodel front.) “Appearances asset of office.” (So we are justified in paying that amount.) The stenographer had slipped out; she could not bear to, see his humiliation. The chief really had a kindly heart, and he fumbled his papers some more without looking at Percy. With a groan Grosscup sank into a chair, his hands before his face. Tears of mortification and disappointment were smarting his eyes. Once or twice he tried to speak, then he arose as if to go. “Sit down, son; you aren’t the first man to lose his job. You’ve got plenty of time to look around. We might even extend your time a month, till you get settled down somewhere —” . “Get settled somewhere! Yes, in that new little bungalow!” he burst out bitterly. Then he opened his heart and made a clean breast of the whole of the morning’s business. He stopped short at the maddening thought. “What will she say? How can I ever tell her?” Then manfully he pleaded his cause: “Just you name the figure that you can afford to pay me till my hat gets down to normal. I’ll go out and tell the girl the whole story, then I’ll marry her on the date set just the same, if she’ll have me. Til see if I can’t come out ahead of this deal after all —I’d like to show you once what I can do.” “It mightn’t be a bad venture,” mfised the chief, thoughtfully, “if you really mean it.” The curling lock fell over his brow, and feeling the look of half contempt that came over his chief’s face, he pushed the lock back savagely: “Lend me a quarter till I go out and get my hair cut,” begged Percy, ‘Til show you whether I mean It or not!”