Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WHERE ‘““ How old are your” said the boss, ‘* Twenty-five,” I said, and began to won- der what it was about. Mr. Berford just shook his head thought- fully. ‘““Um-m?” he muttered. “ Doesn’t seem any nine years since I was twenty-five my- self! —Er, Henry!” OG, Sir.” ‘““How many times have I raised your salary?” ‘“ Well, just once, two years ago,” I said. “ Really?” said Mr, Berford, and he looked almost shocked. “ Well, I’m going to raise it again: ten per, Henry, beginning immediately, You do not find yourself heartbroken over this?” 1 suppose I grinned, If I did, most of it was astonishment; the president of our cor- poration doesn’t put that easy, intimate ef- fect into his conversation as a rule. Sir, I can stand a shock like that four times a week, if necessary!” I answered —and it struck me all of a sudden that that wasn’t just the way I’d been in the habit of talking to Mr, Berford, either! He only leaned back and laughed, though —yes, laughed right out loud, like an or- dinary human being!—and when he had finished laughing his face smoothed out into the funniest, most glorified smile and he clasped his hands on top of his desk and looked straight at me, ‘‘ Henry!” he burst out. ‘‘ Did you——er-— ever—er—”’ And that was all there was of that! The boss straightened up in his chair with quite \ a jerk and coughed; the glorified smile dis- appeared and he frowned over his mail, just as he always does, and coughed again, quite violently. ‘‘ Kr—what was I going to say?——Well, it’s immaterial, in any case,” he murmured, and kept his eye on the mail. ‘“‘ I’ll—er— ring for you when I’ve been through this stuff, Henry. We'll go light on the mail to-day; I want to finish up that report for the annual meeting of the directors this aft- ernoon.”’ Then he glanced at me again, in the dear old familiar way, which means “‘ get out of here!” J trotted into my own little two- by-four office, and I can’t say that, all alone 163 there, I broke down and wept. I have no responsibilities, of course, but.an extra ten- spot every Saturday looks just as pretty and enticing to me as it does to the next man; thinking it all over, I certainly did warm through to that girl in the big blue roadster! We'll admit that I’m not particularly bright; still, there are some things that can be grasped without entirely wrecking the brain, and this was one of them: at last, Mr. Thomas F, Berford was in love! This happens, so I understand, to a num- ber of people in the course of a year, but there was something mighty near incredible about Mr, Berford getting into that condi- tion, Maybe it was because he had always seemed so hard and arrogant, without a grain of sentiment in him; maybe it was because, in my own mind, I’d never asso- ciated him with one thing in the wide world but Work, with a capital W. And he was a glutton for work! Normal- ly, he’d arrive in the morning with that rushing effect that always suggested a Kan- sas cyclone, slap down the black brief case he always carries; ring for me if I hadn’t already appeared, dump the brief case on his desk and begin dictating, even before getting at the mail. After that, he’d play a symphony on his little bank of electric buttons and department heads would come a-running and then stand and listen, all screwed up to concert pitch, while Mr. Ber- WAS Ie ford shot orders at them with the general © effect of a machine-gun. Next, we’d do the early mail Marathon, and when that was over I had ruined anoth- er notebook and had six more pencils ready for the sharpener, After that came the visit- ors, all by appointment, and it was a mighty important one who talked more than five minutes in the president’s office—and so on through the day, at just the same speed, un- til some time after five Mr. Berford would pack up his black brief case again until it bulged and then steer for the old home up- town. They said he worked all night every night, and I’ve been inclined more than once to believe it. Oh, he was a hustler, fast enough, and there seemed to be no end to his energy. I’ve seen young Mallison, the boob junior partner—the firm used.tap he. Berfard. &.