Roast Beef, Medium

the crowd, made wary by bitter experience of the sham and cheap fraud behind the tawdry canvas flap, stops a moment, laughs, and passes on. Then Temptation, in a panic, seeing his au

ward the ticket-win

therloom Petticoat Company, New York. It had started with a six-weeks' illness endured in the discomfort of a stuff

oonfuls of olive-oil taken thrice a day, of mountain air, of cold baths, and, above all, of the advisability of lea

next-week's style in fall hats. As the train glided out of the great shed Emma McChesney had waved her handkerchief, smiling like fury and seeing nothing but an indistinct blur as the observation platform s

aitless as ever. That spelled gloom for the petticoat business. It was necessary to sell three of th

arienbad of old T. A. Buck, Mrs. McChesney's stanch friend and beloved empl

vorced, penniless, refusing support from the man she had married eight years bef

ographer to inside saleswoman, from that to a minor road territory, and finally to t

he was worth. Once, when she had been disclosing to him a clever business scheme which might be turned

a man. With that head on a man's shoul

yway," Mrs. McChe

toise-shell rimmed glasses. Then, "I believe yo

hristmas. But to Emma McChesney it spelled the dreaded spring trip. It spelled trains s

ded trucks for her own trunks. She'd have recognized them in the hold of a Nile steamer-those grim, travel-scarred sample-trunks. They had a human look to her. She had a way of examining them after each trip, as a f

alf metropolitan air. Sometimes she likened it to a country girl in a velvet gown, and sometimes to a

onth for actors and traveling men. Mrs. McChesney registered automati

le-trunks and my personal trunk. And I want to see a porter about putting up some

assured her. "Jo'll attend to those tables. Too

uch thing," corrected

ing business

, how's that handsome youngster of yours

ul glow into Emma Mc

ork. I'm wild to see if those three months of college have done anything to him, bless his

prepared to make herself comfortable. A cocky bell-boy switched on the lights, adj

that window

rated the bell-boy. "B

ad this room left a dead cigar around somewhere. Send up a wa

hoe that had pressed a bit too tightly over the inste

s, have dinner, and turn in early. Wish Jock were here. We'd have a steak, and some French fried,

e from the Sure-White Laundry at Dayton (hope they found that corset-cover)-o

n from the knot of bright hair (also as is the way of woman) and slit the envelope with a quick, sure rip. M-m-m-it wasn't much as to len

Blonde,"

e of the y

never remembered a real Christmas-in a home, you know, with a tree, and skating, and regular high jinks, and a dinner that left you feeling like a stuffed gooseberry. Old Wells says his grandmother wears lace caps with lavender ribbons. Can you beat it! Of course he felt

s still were parted, but by one of those miracles with which the face expresses w

tter before her she raised her hand slowly and wiped away a hot, blinding mist of tears with her open palm. Then s

as though every selfish word had not alrea

brushed, and brushed and brushed, with a mechanical, pathetic little gesture that showed how completely absent her mind was from the room in which she sat. Then

y sat up with a start. She shivered as she became conscious of the icy December air pouring into the little room.

d her a long card

Sorry I've changed my mind.

rown herself upon it, buried her face in the nest of pillows, and given vent to the flood of tears that was bea

n bunches of threes. It's like breaking the first cup in a new Haviland set. You can always coun

ld cream, wiped it with a towel, smoothed her hair, donned her hat. The next instant the little room was dark, a

-"How about my trunks?"

al rubbed a hard brown han

ain't

surprise disre

oked in the rush, the train being late from Dayton when you started. Likely

y stuff out early. I can't keep cust

erk once more. "Anyth

on kind of puts a crimp in the show business. Nice l

ching to see if the next act is going to b

al ditty, shed the evening dress to reappear in an ankle-length fluffy pink affair; shucked the fluffy pink affair for a child's pinafore, sash, and bare knees; discarded the kiddie frock, disclosing a bathing-suit; left the bathing-suit behind the wings in favor of satin knee-b

her hot forehead as she walked

n?" to th

't come in on the ten. Think the

hesney was in the depot bagga

re. Try Columb

e surprised baggage-master. "There

lling china?

my frank, unbiased opinion of this road, its president, board of directors, stockholders, bag

e-master. "You'll feel bet

. When she

e road? Say, that's a hell of a job for

ght," said Emma McChesney

our best to trace it. Gu

k to run along and enjoy himself, and waited. She cut and fitted a shirt-waist, took her hat apart and retrimmed it, m

ator to go to her room. She had come from another fruitless visit to the baggage-room. She sank into a leather-cush

rs. McChesney, by the Great Horn Spoon! H'are you?

looked up and smiled bravely into the plump pink face of Fat Ed Meyers, traveling

eyers? Sufficient ground

her unguardedly. She felt that he had appraised her from hat to

s Mr. Abel Fromkin, maker of the Fromkin Form-Fit

said of me. This is my floor." Mrs. Mc

tanding beside her, his movements unbelievably nim

. Not t

r. "Fromkin, you go on up with the b

frown appeared on Em

o excuse me, M

that little Kike friend of mine till you've heard what I have to say. Now just let me talk a min

eriously in the silence o

has got a business head, take it from me. But he's wise enough to know that business isn't the rough-and-tumble game it used to be. He realizes that he'll do for the workrooms, but not for the front shop. He knows that if he wants to keep on growing he's got to have what they call a steerer. Somebody smooth, and polished, and politic, and what t

led Mrs. McChesney, "might I suggest that you s

w I feel about you

now," eni

t those two little business mis

andings," correct

rts from the belt to the hem. I don't know just what his proposition is, but I'll bet he'll give you half interest in the livest, come-upest little skirt

ey, "don't you grab this matchle

ight, and when he's dressed up he looks like a 'bus-boy at Mouquin's, but he can see a bluff farther than I ca

plump, pink, eager face before he

said slowly

'll have

N

Er-pa

You can't smoke in the parlor. We'll find a quiet corner in the writing

that you look your ag

with his peculiarly pallid skin made paler in contrast to the purplish-black line where the razor had passed, showing no hint of excitement except in the restless little black eyes and in the work-scarred hands that rolled cigarette after cigare

met you there in the elevator you looked like you'd lost your last custom

if some one had called me up on the 'phone and said, 'Hullo, Mrs.

sney, but you're no kid. Not that you look your age-not by ten years! But I happen to

o put to a lady?" rem

's tired. Tired in the morning; tired at night. She wants her kimono and her afternoon snooze. You've seen some of those old girls on the road. They've come down step by step until you spot 'em, bleached hair, crow's-feet around the eyes, mussy shirt-waist, yellow and red complexion, demonstrating green and lavender gelatine messes in the gro

Emma McChes

out the skirt business. They've got to take in a third party to keep it a close corporation. It was all between old

hardened the blue of

of T. A. Buck out of t

e thing for you-a share in a growing and substantial business. When you get your road men trained it'll mean that you won't need to go out on the road yourself, except for a little m

I do, Mr. Meyers. Your flow of language, coupled with your peculiar persuasive powers, make a combination a statue could

t it down fine. I tell you what. I'll be in New York the twenty-first. We can go over the books and papers and the whole business. And I like yo

"You two get together and fix things up in shape; then you can sign up

the street-lamps were reflected in the ice-covered pavemen

ason. It's a feeling.

s. McChesney!" ob

so intently. She faced him squarely, as though utterly disregarding Ed Meyers' flattery and banter and cajolery.

ead to tape and back again. I've managed to save a few thousand dollars. Only a woman could understand how I've done it. I've scrimped on little things. I've denied myself necessities.

all a swell dresser. Nothing flashy, understand, or lo

ed, and planned ahead for a rainy day. There have been two or three times when I thought it had come. Sprinkled pretty heavily, once or twice. But I've just turned up my

he black ones. "Those few thousand dollars that you hold so light

d a high-pitched, monotonous vo

Mr. Ludwig! Please! Mrs. Mc

from the salver that the boy held out to her. Her quick glan

The two men spok

d Emma McChesney. "

o Fat Ed Meyers. He read it in

to New York. Spalding

-" began

el

his looks as if

sn't it?"

o men were on their feet, eager, alert.

you. I want to thank you both for your trouble. I must have been cra

hat te

. A. Buck.' I'll

disappointment and bewilderm

new women, but-" beg

r name. She glanced toward the clerk. He

ed 'em your trunks were traced to Columb

o you know, I believe I've learned to hate t

telegram again, and regarded it thought

bright office of the T. A. Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company

g for you," a sten

d the door of the of

swiftly toward her, was T. A. Buck-no longer junior. There was a new look a

ds-a firm, sincere,

o have I. His will be business things, mine will be personal. I got there before father passed away-thank God! But he couldn't speak. He'd anticipa

it a privilege," s

ok it in silence. She heard him in silence

d trust which you held in the mind of your late employer. By the terms of his will-I'll put it briefly, for the moment-you are offered the secretaryship of the firm of T. A. Bu

ned to T. A. Buck. "I want you to know-I want you to know-that just

six months of it, beginning with that illness and ending wi

't a season...it's a feeling,

ried in it. And I've earned my living by it. Giving it up-do

nd I don't want you to let his going from us make any differen

en the door opened and a boy entered with a telegram.

fool mind. Me fo

looked up, he

Mr. Buck. It's a feeling; a