Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

116 sign of the office being occupied he proudly and crudely began to letter the door. The corridor was dark and dingy. No one seemed to be about. And were it not for signs on the doors of other offices and on the directory in the street-floor entrance, Moore might easily have imagined himself the sole occupant of the building, or at least, his floor. Diagonally across the corridor was a door labeled: : BIXBY—BROKER. And inside, unseen and unheard by Moore, one Nonita Sand was getting rid of an employer, quite the opposite of what had just happened to Moore. She was just beginning to typify her name. At ‘that very moment she had con- cluded she was tired of her humdrum job, that she was going to make a change and that before she did she would tell her em- ployer just where he got off, which is a thing all of us have the ambition to do some time in our lives. She went direct to the point, if nothing else. “Mr. Bixby,” she asked, “ when are you going to give me a typewriter for this old-fashioned office?”’ Ezra Bixby blinked. Such impertinence was novel to him. ‘Why, Miss Sand. What do you mean? You know I’ve never considered a type- writer; it’s quite unnecessary.” “Tt is as long as you don’t have to write ithe letters,” she retorted. ‘“ And an add- ing machine. I simply won’t work here any longer without one.” Nonita had been aching to say something like that, and now, after a long wait, she was in the throes of an ambition attained. Mr. Bixby was astounded at the straight- forwardness of his hitherto meek and effi- cient secretary. Perhaps she had been read- ing some Bolshevik literature and was try- ing to bully him. Mr. Bixby was not the man to stand for that. “Miss Sand,” he said, “ that will do. You’ve said quite enough. I shall continue to run this business without the aid of new- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. fangled devices as I have done in the past. I shall solicit advice when I think I neéd it.” And he gave emphasis to the statement by pounding his desk violently. Nonita was neither impressed nor dis- turbed. She continued coolly to air her grievances. “You don’t think of easing a subordi- nate’s burdens. Modern aids mean noth- ing to you. You think your ancient meth- ods are good enough and that’s why your business is—”’ Here Bixby spluttered. “T’ll have no references to the way I conduct my busi- mess. If you’re not careful, Miss Sand, Ill have—I’ll have to reduce your pay as is consistent with the present economic ten- dencies.”’ He had intended to say that he would have to let her go, but quickly realized that an equal would be hard te find and that much time would be lost in schooling another into the intricacies of. his broker- ing business. Bixby realized that she was too valuable to lose. a Nonita was aware of what was going through Bixby’s mind. ‘ You almost fired me, Mr. Bixby,” she said. ‘‘ But there’s no need of it. I’m tired of your office; I’ve got initiative even if I’ve never shown it and I’ve concluded to go-somewhere where imagination is required.” ‘“Yow’re going to leave me?” Bixby was actually alarmed. ‘ After all I’ve done for you? After—after—” ‘“ After refusing to buy me a typewriter ” concluded Nonita. > “ But I will,” promised Mr. Bixby. “Too late now,” she retorted. ‘“ And before I go please take down that last year’s calendar which I am sure you are not saving for the picture of the pretty girl. You know it adds to the impression that that the business is asleep.” Bixby was astounded to silence. He watched Nonita jauntily leave his office, and as he heard her close the outer door his mouth twitched and his head sank upon his chest. . Nonita experience a feeling of freedom. Jobless, with little money, yet absolutely without a worry in the world, she stepped into the dingy corridor and halted to draw COnICLOO© S (C@