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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
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