BARBARA CHOOSES A PROFESSION
When Norman came down to the office next morning, the clerk handed him
a note. A glance at the smooth, perfect handwriting told him at once
it was from Barbara. He opened it with a smile of pleasant surprise
and read with increasing astonishment:
"You are to take breakfast with me this morning in
the rose bower of the floral court.
"By order of
"BARBARA BOZENTA,
"_Secretary to the General Manager_."
Norman found her alone, seated beside a little table in the bower, her
face wreathed in mischievous smiles.
She rose and extended her hand:
"Permit me to introduce you to your new secretary."
"I assure you my delight is only equalled by my surprise," he
answered, with boyish banter.
"Yes, I thought it best to take you by surprise. Now that it's all
settled, I trust we will get on well." She looked at him with demure
and charming impudence.
Norman burst into laughter.
"I'm sure we will!" he answered. "All I require is industry, patience,
wisdom, tact, knowledge, sacrifice, absolute obedience, and a joyous
desire to assume full responsibility for my mistakes!"
"All of which will come to me," she responded, with mock gravity.
"Permit me!"
She led him to the chair she had placed beside the table, and poured a
cup of coffee for him.
Norman watched her with keen enjoyment. "I've never seen you in this
mood before," he said, quietly.
"You like it?"
"Beyond words! I'm afraid I'll wake up directly and find I'm dreaming.
I'm sure now, when I look into your eyes, sparkling with fun, that you
are a flower nymph, and that your home has always been a rose bower on
the sunny slope of a southern hillside."
"Perhaps I'm just teasing you. Perhaps I won't work," she said,
glancing at him from the corners of her brown eyes.
"Then you'll find it a serious joke," he answered, firmly.
"Resignations are not in order. You have chosen your profession. As
general manager I have given my approval. That settles it, doesn't
it?"
"If you are pleased, yes," she answered, gravely.
"I am more than pleased. I've been afraid to ask you to do this work
for me--though I've had it in mind."
"Why afraid?"
"I don't know. I somehow got the impression lately that you didn't
like me personally."
"How could you think such a thing!" she protested.
"Just a vague impression--caught, perhaps, from little gestures you
sometimes made, little frowns that sometimes came to your brow, little
flashes of hostility from your eyes."
"I didn't mean it, comrade!" she said, demurely, while her eyes danced
and her mouth twitched playfully.
"And you've fully weighed the cost?"
"Fully."
"You know that you will be forced to spend most of your time in my
office?"
"I'll try to endure it," she laughed.
"Without a frown or a hostile look?"
"Unless you provoke it."
Norman ate in silence for five minutes, listening to Barbara's girlish
chatter while she bubbled over with the spirit of pure joy. Her whole
being radiated fun and laughter as the sun pours forth heat and light.
He wondered where this magic secret of joyous womanhood had been
hidden in the past.
"What a revelation you've been to me this morning," he said, musingly,
as he rose from the table.
"How?" she asked.
"I thought you were all seriousness and tragedy, eloquence and
pathos."
"We're in paradise now. The shadows have lifted."
"And I find you a little ray of dancing sunlight."
"So every girl would be if she had the chance."
"And we're going to give them the chance here, little comrade!" he
cried, with enthusiasm.
"I'll help you!" she earnestly responded, extending her hand with a
tender look into the depth of Norman's soul.