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July 1931
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
“May I see Mr, Burling, please?” “Have you an appointment?” asked the young woman crisply. “I have a card of introduction,” Marian answered. The girl seemed to hesitate. “I will see,” she said, and disappeared behind a door marked “Private.” “You may go right in,” she returned a moment later. A portly man of middle age was sitting at a large desk strewn with papers. He glanced up and nodded. “Well, what can I do for you?” His manner was kindly, but businesslike. He read the little note of introduction. “Yes.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “You would like to find some work. What can you do? What expe rience have you had?” “I guess I haven’t had any.” Marian’s voice sounded small and strange. “What would you like to do?” “I think I would like clerical work, or selling.” “Good at figures?” Marian’s face brightened. “Yes. My marks were always good in mathematics.” “Do bookkeeping?” “No. That is, I have never tried.” “Been through high school?” “Yes, and almost three years in college.” “And why didn’t you finish?” Then, as Marian did not answer, “Well, no matter.” Something of the old look of pain had crept back into the girl’s face. He noticed it, and his manner became more gentle. “I am sorry, Miss Linton, but I am afraid we have not a thing you could do.” A few more words, kindly spoken, and she felt herself dismissed. She went directly to the bank, and was almost at once ushered into the office of the wealthy banker. He was an entirely different type of man. He was younger, nothing of the kind fatherliness of Mr. Burling. His man ner was almost brusque. He took the note, ■ seeming to read it through at a glance. “Oh, yes, Dale Goodwin, I remember him. Fine fel low. And what can I do for you, Miss Linton ?” “I would like very much to secure a position in the bank.” “Ever had any experience in banking ?” . “Yes indeed, I have always kept my own bank book.” The banker smiled. “That is very good,” he said, “but I meant, have you ever worked in a bank?” “Oh, no,” Marian murmured, embarrassed at the stu pid mistake she had made. “Had experience in any other business?” “No.” “Stenographer ?” “No. But I am sure I could learn clerical work. I have a good education and am quick with figures.” He seemed to consider for a moment. “I am sorry, but we haven’t any clerical positions available just now. The salary would be low in any case.” “I must do something,” she said in a low, desperate tone. He looked at her pitingly, his keenly appraising eye traveling from her expensive footwear to the chic little hat that set off a costume in perfect taste. “I am really awfully sorry, Miss Linton, but there isn’t a thing. You can file an application if you want, in case there is an opening later.” He stood up, and Marian felt the interview ended. The afternoon was much the same, only the interviews were shorter. The next day it was no better. She tried
answering advertisements, and one looked rather hopeful. It called for a girl to mind a small business and take full charge in the absence of the owner. She found the place, a small tailoring establishment. The proprietor, a short, dark man with a foreign accent, came forward and greeted her beamingly as a prospective customer. “You advertised for a girl?” Marian asked, rather hesitantly. He almost gasped with surprise. “You that girl? You want that job?” “I wanted to see about it,” Marian answered with quiet dignity. She did not altogether like the looks of the place, but it was on a good street and it seemed respect able. “You mind the baby?” he asked, looking at her sharply. “Wha—what did you say? I beg your pardon; I did not understand.” She thought she must not have heard him aright. “I say, you mind the baby? Do you know how to mind the baby ?” “Your advertisement was for a girl to mind the store,” she replied a trifle haughtily. “Yes, that is it. You mind the store; that is not much. You mind' the baby when the wife goes out. My wife and me, we like to go to the movies in an evening, and the baby will not always sleep. You mind things here until we come back; that is not much.” Anger and amazement flamed in Marian’s face, and then the ridiculousness of the situation struck her. “And how much do you pay for all this?” He looked rather affronted at her tone, but named an amount so small that Marian wondered how he could possibly refrain from his pet expression, “and that is not much.” She said it for him. “What that you say?” ' He had caught the words, and he felt she was laughing at him. “You will not do for the job at all,” he said in a tone of finality, and then, with a very conscious dignity, he added graciously, “I will make you a beautiful suit at any time, but' I cannot let you mind my baby.” As he said the words, a curtain back of the store flut tered, and into the room there crept with surprising ra pidity the baby in question, a comical little roly-poly, quite the fattest and certainly the dirtiest infant Marian had ever seen. He paused only an instant, and then made straight for Marian. As Marian backed, slowly away from the grimy little hands and the face that seemed to be covered with some sticky substance, the father laughed gleefully. “Now isn’t he the boy! It’s too bad, Miss, you aren’t going to stay, ’cause you see he takes to you right away.” The child stopped and sat up, looking at her with as perfect a baby face—barring the grime—as could be imagined. Marian wished for one fleeting second that she could see it with the dirt removed, but she perfectly agreed (Continued on page 316 )
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