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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (April 12, 1933)
. V pisillu- iphor. 7. RIEDA HALSK how do you »«y it? her of the unemplo; A Bioned little steno out of worli, tmdired wear ily up the three fli|rhtn oflcreak- inj? stars that Idd to her ^light- houitekeepin^'’ room after* a day * iiince she had bet*n ‘firedt* from Berk's offlct'•jhbff. Frieda had hot merelk been M let out,** but firaC< with ac companying sourd effecta of a stormy boss and snickers fCom : - the office boy. i Eiafaara|sment, humiliation, tears, and dispair had followed Mr*. Boric's uiifrentlemanly behavior of threatemnfr to throw her from the offices if she did not cease arjruiniran impossible case to him. He had been irritable for weeks, diffi- *, cult to get along with. |And to make it worse he caught cold i in his weak system so readily that he demanded perfect hermetic sealing of the room whareln he worked. In this room !#• worked Frelda, the healthy young girl on her own. There would not hav^ been the conflict if Freida had Jot been so M cold-n*tured. n ' She payed no heed to drafts, chals, or dampness. Ip fact sh<4 was a fiend for fre*h sir, sunshihe. and all mvigoratiing processes of nature and the elements. C*n- C r ]ueptly, all windows wefe raised the limits w*hen she hung Her t upon the rack and started into a day’s typewriting of letters. Then when Mr. Berk came grumbling and snarling in. two hot|rs later, like an orge from home unclean den. the first thing he 4 did was to order the wimiows down. The windows went down. Another feature ef ifreida, this one probably not so <^ohi- meridable, was |er carettssmaa,. forgetfullness. And as 4)e was the hired girl of the private office, she was respon-ifoi. fbr those windows, which were seldom ever put down whtn she had.lar way]about it. A cold spell had hit the towa, and with the first hint of dropping temperature the boss had thun dered descends that the windows be immediately shut Freida looked up- from her typewriter long enough to a disappear towards his- private washroom, and then shrugged her shoulders and promptly forgot what the old wheeser said. He talked so much anyway that one could not be expected to repiember all the worthless things he Then be returned and' sat at his heavy desk, as he did. The window at his back was admitting a brisk li breeze of snappy chill, and letting it down the back of scrawny neck. He skuddered as the cold air hit him whirled around t<> see the. window open. He looked at, who had finished her work and was glancing at a magazine **Yourtg lady,*’ he said almost as icily as the wind blowing outside, *Mo ybu realize that I have reasons for ei order I giv%?** I T # • 71 By Tom M. Brown Frieda wafi a fiend for fresh air, sunshine, and all invigorating pro- cesses of nature and the elements. i “Yessir,** disinterestedly from Freida. J.I “And still yoii blazenly refuae to obey them, although |i pay you for those expected services?** Freida*s ire began to rise, and she made some impertineiil remark that turned Mr, Berk's face to a crimson rage. I / “You’re fired. Get out! Right now; go draw your p*r and get out. Then when the girl had realized what her foolishm done she tried to make atonement as best she could, whicl Was not good enough. Mr. Berk stormed and swore, slat the windows down and brake a pane in his rage. After hi .'bad mortified her to his utmost anility, she had departed, cry*. ' Ing in anger and 4elf-pHy. . That was that. That night she consoled herself that she could easily ge( another position. Bhe was an expert typist, and a aaperlativ# stenographer, There most be a demand for a girl such as thaU '* her good looks, of which sbe had an over^ irtening thing, but not quite prac* in the three days of tireless con-* I » tact ing and min but energy-draining efforts for a job.’ She found that in jobs, as in Maything else, there was a mountain of supply to a pin-point of {iemand. She was disgusted. * i.to say nothing of |her food 1 ihare of. Optimism is a hea . meal. Freida found that out When one gets thoroughly disgusted, his actions may ad here to many formulas, accord ing to the character of the sub ject. Frieda was not of verv staunch stuff. She admitted de feat too quickly. In the language of the modems, she “could n >t take it." It was the first time she had ever been in this plight, and it sapped her of courag *. Many others are likewise de feated. It is not something paw. What do they do? They commit suicide, arguing to themselves that their cour age is so boundless that they can actually do it. In truth, mu is not courage, but an admission of defeat. Frieda had made up her mind. Rags, sleeping powder, and gas from the range. The rag.- to stuff under the door; the sleeping powder to lull her into dreamless oblivion before the dry pangs of asphyxiation came; and the gas to ... . Drearily she hunp her hat neatly on the peg by the door to her one room.' Why had she done that ? What did she car<- whether they found her hat on the floor or on the peg? She knocked it to the floor. She turned on the gm»; it gave a queer little hiss, ami sounded very different from the lighted fire. Kind of soothing purr, just right to sing one to sleep. She shut it off again. The rags she pulled from the bottom drawer of her dress er, and stuffed consnenciously under the wide crack in the door’s threshold. No gas could escape from under there now. Cotton . L