Roast Beef, Medium

so unevenly balanced that the wrong side of the ledger sags, then to the listening stockholders there comes the painful thought

sound. After it was over Mrs. Emma McChesney, secretary of the company, followed T. A. Buck, its president, into the big, bright show-room. T. A. Buck's

o face Emma

er's been dead a little over a year. In that time we've just abou

nruffled, scrutinized the harassed

rial you would have made,

as stiff a scrimmage as the next one. But this isn't a game. You take thi

Then they closed again. She walked over to the big window that faced the street. When she had stood th

go if I had. But I do take my job seriously. Don't forget that for a

It isn

ittle something about men and business. When your father died, and I learned that he had shown his appreciation of my wo

N

ded, nursed, cherished. And now you say we've run thi

't lie." He plunged into another fathom of gloo

s drooping shoulder. It was a strange little act for a woman-

n't going to be another year like this. Not if the planning, and scheming, and b

mself as one who is

other n

the tall show-case, pushed back the sliding glass door, and pointed t

manded, disgust in her

did not seem to interest him. Emma McChesney drew from the rack

fifteen years ago the material in this skirt

don't see how they get around in the darned th

wear 'em. There you have the

. A. "They certainly wear

zen. We paid from ninety cents to one dollar five a yard. Now our skirts run from twenty-five to twenty-eight yards to the d

roblems myself. I know we've got to sell three skirts to-day t

was It. At a signal everybody had to get up and change chairs. There was a wild scramble, in which the one who was It took part. When the burly-burly was over some child was always chairless, of course. He had to be It. That's

n the most optimistic of watchers could have

t you and I had tried every possible

l of the Petticoat, beginning with the billowy white muslin variety, and working up to the present slinky messaline affair. When I think of those dear dead days of the glorious-er-past, w

. Buck's mouth relax

un in the Sunday Sphere? The one headed

alled the Carmencita! We made it up so it could retail for a dollar ninety-five, and I could have sworn that th

ould touch your Municipal Purity League agitation for the abolition of the form-hugging skirt. You

ey's lips, only to die away to a sigh. Sh

half as much material, got together and knocked my plans into a cocked hat. In answer to those snap-shots showing what took place every time a woman climbed a car step, they came back wit

Emma, "remember Moe Selig, of the Fine-Form Skirt Company, trying to get the

g matter, this situation. T. A. Buck shrugged his shoulders, and be

ill wearing 'em tight, a

ed and interested gaze on the skirt of the trim and correct little

exclaimed, and pointed

a McChesney. "What is

ead, impatiently. "Mou

ait

d down, b

, and three in the back. That's new, isn't it? If o

laits are stitched down. See? That's the fiendishness of it. And the petticoat underneath-if t

s with a little gest

heme. We're ready for it. It's

he eyelids which betokens intense earnestness; the gathering of all the forces before taking a moment

at I'm playing it well. I'll be ready for you to-morrow mornin

hted up T. A. Buck's good-looking features. His fine eyes rested admiringly upon Emma McChesn

hough I could take hold in a way to make those famous jobs that

up, will you? And don't let it filter out at y

ether, eh? And talk i

d the glass door of

s. My offi

lunch? You never will take lunch with me. Ever so

t-one practical desk, two practical chairs, one telephone, one letter-basket, one self-filling fountain-pen, et cetera. And when I lunch I want t

" grumbled T. A. "

as he held the door open for her. He was still standing in the doorway after

the harassed, frowning T. A. Buck with whom she had almost quarreled the evening before. Mrs. McChesney was busily dictating to a sleek little stenographer. The sleek little stenographer glanced up at T. A. Buck's entrance. Th

ssible to avoid pulling at the seams in the lower-grade silk skirts when they are made up in the present scant style. Our Mr. Spalding warned you of this at the time

ears younger than he had the afternoon before, Emma McChesney undoubtedly looked fi

ndence, and the well-filled pad of more recent dictation wh

s though you had staye

ning in time to greet the night watchman. Wanted to get my mail out of the way."

seen the mo

cked up Burrows on the way dow

s failed. Liabilities three hundred t

d from his face. "Failed! Why, girl, I thought that concern was as solid as Gibralt

hem with a new breeze. I'm all the more

slid down in his chair, crossed his legs, and began to scrawl meaningles

his scheme of yours a

ma McChesney, bris

fire

breathing a trifle fast. Her ey

keep us afloat until full skirts come in again will be a full and complete line of women's satin messaline knickerbockers made up to match any suit or gown, and a full line of p

paper on which he had been scrawlin

rupted. "Is this supp

plete, not to say nifty line of women's pajamas-pink pajama

mighty poor time to joke. And if you are serious I can only deduce from it that this year

, when I might have approached it gently. You've done just what I knew you'd do, so it's all right. Af

ev

dream of going away to school without her six sets of pajamas. Why, a girl in a regulation nightie at one of their midnight spreads would be ostracized. Of course I've thought up a

but she would have none of it. But at Emma McChesney'

ties, especially in the hustling Middle-Western towns, and along the coast, too, I'm planning to have the knickerbockers introduced at private a

king. "Never! This firm has always had a n

ound, but when you feel things slipping from under you the thing to do is to grab on to anything that'll keep you on your

tly. "It's a drowning man's straw, and jus

men say that," smi

we're going to smash we'll go decently, and with our name untarnished. Pajamas are bad enough. But when it comes to the

r. For win him she would, in the end. It was merely a question of method. She chose the simplest.

, and took out a flat package. "I expected opposition. That's why I had these samples made up to show you.

nt, and shook it out before the half-inte

otted soft silk scarf. Oh, it's just a little kink, but they'll love it. They're actually becoming. I've tried 'em. Notice the f

e garments with a

. But the other--the-the knickerbocker things-that's not even practical. It will make an ugly garment, and the women who wo

door of the tiny wash-room off

es! We're re

itchingly skittish-looking garment consisting of knickerbockers and snug brassiere of king's blue

ly, "this is Mr. T. A. Buck, president of the firm.

rested one white hand at her side

!" she said, in a

Buck, his years and breeding s

snug and trim with a tiny clasp just below the knees. This garment has the added attraction of being fastened to the upper garment, a tight satin brassiere. The single, unattached garment is just as satisfactory, however. Women are wearing plush this year. Not only for the street, but for evening dresses. I rathe

st from the long-pent T. A. B

oyes, will you just slip on

skirt covered the much discussed under-garment. "Turn slowly, please. Thanks. You see, Mr. Buck? Not a wrinkl

omething pathetic in his utter bewilderment and helplessness in contrast with Emma

lmost pleadingly. "Let me ask a

red. That proves y

iss-er-La Noyes, do you honestly and truly like this gar

and without hesitation. She did not ev

sney says I can have this pair. I can't wait till our prima do

Mrs. McChesn

hook his head. "

oulder, and smiled dazzlingly upon her. "Run along, l

d at the door to bestow a frankly admiring smile upon the abstracted pres

in the first scene. Third from the left, front row." And to Mrs. McChesney: "I cer'nly did hate to get u

appreciate the fine points of this

he was pliant enough for the molding process, and

te store. We'll get them to send out announcement cards. Something neat and flattering-looking. See? Little stage all framed up. Scene set to show a bedroom or boudoir. Then, thin girls, plump girls, short girls, high girls. They'll go through all the paces. We won't only show the knickerbockers: we demonstrate how the

ightly tousled. Her cheeks w

t it! Can't you feel how the

arned if I don't believe you're right-a

T. A. Senior sitting over there in that chair, tapping the side of his nose with the edge of his tortoise-shell-rimmed glasses, and nodding hi

ooked strangely white and drawn. "I'll leave it to you. I'll do my

McChesney, briskly. "Well, now, suppose we talk

ged. They were getting out the travelers' spring lines. Entered Mrs. McChesney, and stood eying them, worriedly. It was her dozenth visit to

T. A. Buck, squinting up at her

walked listlessly toward the door. There she encountered Spalding-Billy Spalding, of the coveted Middle-Western territory, Billy Spalding, the long-heade

do you start out

I'm itching to spread it. You're certainly a

n you reach the Eagle House at Waterloo, tell Annie, the head-waitress to rustle you a couple of Mrs. Traudt's dill pickles. Tell her Mrs. McChesney

reath. "I'll be there!" he

morning there burst upon Mrs. M

Spalding?"

ding?

k at midnight. They operated at five this morning. One of those had

McChesney. "Rough on hi

out his territory? How abo

ght," said Emma Mc

en't a man equal to the terri

t," said Mrs. McChes

sney smiled. Her new listlessness and abstraction seemed to drop from he

ing to leave a trail of pajamas and k

ept into T. A. Buck's face. It was answered by a

rip means. It's going to be a fight. They'll have to be coaxed and bul

won't have you fighting with buyers, taking their insults,

too. I'm a woman of thirty-seven now. I'll never forget that first trip-the heartbreaks, the insults I endured, the disappointments, the humiliation, until they understood that I meant business-strictly business. I'm tired of hearing you men say that this and that and the other isn't woman's work. Any work is woman's work that a woman can do well. I've given the ten best years of

y... I believe in you now! Da

You've learned a lot in the last year and a half, T. A. Junior-that-was, but there

efore he had time to answer

though dreading detection. Then he opened the door, stepped into the dim quiet of the little room, and closed the door gently after him. Everything in the tiny ro

seemed that he felt her firm, cool, reassuring grip on his fingers as they clutched the wooden chair. The impression was so

y, you great big, fine, brave, wonderful woman, you!