AN OFFICE SEEKER AND A CLIENT
"Well, little girl, what are you doing here?"
Dorothy had safely reached the big post-office, which seemed to be the
busiest place she had ever entered; busier even than the department
stores on a "bargain day;" and she had timidly slipped into the quietest
corner she could find, to wait a moment while the crowd thinned. Then
she would present her note, that asked for father John's letter to be
given her, and which was in his own handwriting, to make sure. But the
crowd did not thin! Besides the swarms and swarms of postmen, wearing
just such gray uniforms as her father's, there were so many men. All
were hastening to or from the various windows which partitioned a big
inner room from this bigger outside one and behind which were other men
in uniform--all so busy, busy, busy!
"Why! I didn't dream there could ever be so many letter-carriers! and
each one is so like father, that I'm all mixed up! I know I've got to go
to one those windows, to give this letter and get the other one, but how
will I ever get a chance to do it, between all those men?"
Then while Dorothy thus wondered, growing half-frightened, there had
come that question, put in a familiar tone, and looking up she saw
another gray-uniformed person whom she recognized as her father's
friend. Once he had been to their house to dinner, and how glad she now
was for that.
"Oh, Mr. Lathrop! How glad I am to see you! I've got to get a letter and
I don't see how I'll ever have the chance. The people don't stop coming,
not a minute."
"That's so, little girl--Beg pardon, but I forget your name, though I
know you belong to John Chester."
"Dorothy it is, Mr. Lathrop. Could you--could you possibly spare time to
help me?"
"Well, I reckon there's nobody in this office but would spare any
amount of time to help one of John Chester's folks. I was just starting
on my rounds--second delivery--heavy mail--but come along with me and
I'll fix you out all right."
He turned, shifted his heavy pouch a little, and caught her hand. Then
he threaded his way through the crowd with what seemed to his small
companion a marvelous dexterity. It happened to be the "rush hour" of
business, and at almost any other, Dorothy would not have found any
difficulty in making her own way around, but there was also the
confusion of a first visit. Presently, however, she found herself at the
right window to secure the letter she sought, received it, and heard Mr.
Lathrop say:
"There. That's all right. I reckon you can find your way out all safe,
and I'm in a hurry. Please make my regards to your mother and tell her
we've heard where John is and some of us are going to see him, first
chance we get. Too bad such a thing should happen to him! Don't let
anybody snatch that letter from you, and good-bye."
Then Dorothy found herself alone and no longer afraid. She had
accomplished her mother's errand--now she must attend to a much more
important one of her own. She gazed about her with keenest interest,
trying to understand the entire postal business, as there represented
before her, and assuring herself that after all it was extremely simple.
"It's just because it's new. New things always puzzle folks. As soon as
I've been once or twice I shan't mind it, no more than any of these
people do. I wonder which way I must go? If he's the head man he ought
to have the head room, I should think. Hmm. I'll have to ask,
and--and--I sort of hate to. Never mind, Dorothy C.! You're doing it for
father John and mother Martha; and if you plan to be grown-up, in your
outsides, you must be inside, too. Father hates bold little girls. He
says they're a--a--annemoly, or something. It belongs to girl children
to be afraid of things. He thinks it's nice. Well, I'm all right nice
enough inside, this minute, but--I'll do it!"
After these reflections and this sudden resolution Dorothy darted
forward and seized the arm of a negro who was cleaning the floor.
"Please, boy, tell me the way to the head man's place. The real
postmaster of all."
"Hey? I dunno as he's in, yet. He don't come down soon, o' mornin's.
What you want to see him for?"
"On business of my own. The way, please," answered Dorothy, bracing her
resolution by the fancied air of a grown person.
The negro grinned and resumed his scrubbing, but nodded backward over
his shoulder toward a tall gentleman just entering the building.
"That's him. Now you got your chance, better take it."
There was nothing to inspire fear in the face of this "head man of all,"
nor was there anything left in Dorothy's mind but the desire to
accomplish her "business" at once and, of course, successfully. Another
instant, and the gentleman crossing the floor felt a detaining touch
upon his sleeve and beheld a bonny little face looking earnestly up into
his own. Also, a childish voice was saying:
"I'm John Chester's little girl. May I ask you something?"
"You seem already to be asking me something, but I'm happy to meet you,
Miss Chester, and shall be very glad to hear all about your father. He
was one of the very best men on the force, one of the most intelligent.
I can give you five minutes. Come this way, please."
Dorothy flashed him one of her beautiful smiles, and the postmaster, who
happened to love all children, observed that this was a very handsome
child with a pair of wonderful, appealing eyes. Though, of course, he
did not express his admiration in words, Dorothy felt that she had
pleased him and her last hesitation vanished.
As soon as they were seated in a private apartment, she burst into the
heart of the matter, saying:
"Please, Mr. Postmaster, will you let me take my father's place?"
"W-wh--at?" asked the gentleman, almost as if he whistled it in
astonishment.
Dorothy laughed. "I know I'm pretty small to carry big pouches,
'specially the Christmas and Easter ones, but you always have 'extras'
then, anyway. I know my father's whole beat. I know it from end to
end--all the people's houses, the numbers to them, and lots of the folks
that live around. What I don't know I can read on the envelopes. I'm a
quick reader of handwriting, Miss Georgia says."
The postmaster did not interrupt her by a word, but the twinkle in his
eyes grew brighter and brighter and at the end he laughed. Not harshly
nor in a manner to hurt her feelings, which he saw were deep and
sincere, but because he found this one of the most refreshing
experiences of his rather humdrum position. Here was a visitor, a
petitioner, quite different from the numberless illiterate men who
bothered him for office. He hated to disappoint her, just yet, so asked
with interest:
"And who is Miss Georgia?"
"She's my teacher. She's the vice principal of our school. She's
dreadful smart."
"Indeed? But what, Miss Chester, put this notion into your head? By
taking your father's 'place' I conclude that you are applying for his
position as mail-carrier. Did you ever hear of a little girl postman?"
"No, sir, I didn't, but there has to be a first time, a first one, to
everything, doesn't there? So I could be the first girl postman. And why
I want to is because I think I must support my parents."
The applicant's reply was given with the serious importance due from a
young lady whom such a fine gentleman called "Miss Chester"; and when he
again desired to know whose idea it was that she should seek a place on
"the force," she answered proudly:
"All my own. Nobody's else. Not a single body--not even my mother
Martha--ever suspects. I want it to be a surprise, a real, Christmassy
surprise. Oh! She's feeling terrible bad about our leaving our home and
not knowing what we'll have to live on. So I thought it all out and that
I'd come right to you and ask, before any other substitute got
appointed.
"Well, maybe the notion came that last day my father carried the mail.
His poor legs and feet got so terribly wobbly that he was afraid he'd
fall down or something and couldn't finish his delivery. So I walked
alongside of him and ran up the steps and handed in the letters and
everybody was just as nice as nice to us, except old Mrs. Cecil, who
lives at Bellevieu. She was mad. She was real mad. She said we were
breaking the law, the two of us. Think of that! My father, John Chester,
a law-breaker! Why, he couldn't break a law to save his life. He's too
good."
The postmaster smiled. He had, apparently, forgotten that he was to give
only five minutes to this small maid, and he was really charmed by her
simplicity and confidence.
"Was that the day Mr. Chester was taken to the hospital? The boys have
told me about him--some things. How is he doing? Will he be there long?
You see, I can ask questions, too!" continued the gentleman, very
socially.
"My mother says there's a chance he may get well. He's to be there only
this week that ever is. Then he's to be taken into the country, away,
away to some mountains in New York State. He's got to live right
outdoors all the time, and he mustn't worry, not a single worry. My
mother daren't even talk with him about selling, or renting, our house,
or the furniture, or--or anything. So she talks to me--some."
"I hope you talk to her--more than 'some'; and I'm wondering if you had
done so before you came to me whether I should ever have had the
pleasure of your acquaintance."
Was there a reproof in this? Dorothy's sensitive heart fancied so, yet
she couldn't imagine in what she had done wrong. With a little waning of
hope--the postmaster had been so delightful that she was already sure he
would grant her request--she asked:
"Is it bad? why shouldn't I want to earn the money for my parents? Same
as they have for me and us all. If I had the place, they could go to the
country, just the same, and the money could be sent to them to live on
every month. Of course, I'd have to not go with them. I reckon Mrs.
Bruce, the plumber's wife, would let me live with her, if my folks paid
her board for me. Mabel and I could sleep together, and I'd help with
the dishes and work, 'cause if I were a postman I couldn't go to school,
of course. I'd have to study nights, same as father has. So, if I didn't
make much trouble, maybe Mrs. Bruce wouldn't charge much. But, excuse
me. My father John says I talk too much, and that when I go to do
errands I should stick to business. He says it doesn't make any
difference to the folks that hire you to work for them whether you're
rich or poor, sick or well. All they want is to have the work done--and
no talk about it. I'm sorry I've said so much. I didn't mean to,
but----"
"But," repeated the postmaster, suggestively; and Dorothy finished her
sentence:
"I haven't talked a single word to anybody else, and it seems so good to
do it now. I never had a secret--secrets, for I've got another one yet,
that I can't tell--before and I don't like them. I beg your pardon,
and--May I have my father's position?" said Dorothy, rising, and seeing
by the big clock on the wall that she had long overstayed the time
allotted for this interview.
The gentleman also rose, and laid his hand kindly upon her shoulder, but
his face and voice were grave, as he answered:
"No, my dear, I am sorry to disappoint you, but you ask the impossible.
You could not--But there's no use in details of explanation. As your
wise father has taught you, business should be reduced to its simplest
terms. I cannot give you the place, but I can, and do, give you the best
of advice--for one of your imaginative nature. Never cherish secrets!
Never, even such delightful, surprising ones, as this of yours has been.
Especially, never keep anything from your mother. When anything comes
into your mind which you feel you cannot tell _her_ banish the idea at
once and you'll stay on the safe side of things. Good-morning."
Other people were entering the private office and Dorothy was being
courteously bowed out of it, before she fully realized that she had not
obtained her desire, and never would. For a few seconds, her temper
flamed, and she reflected, tartly:
"Huh! I should make as good a postman as lots of them do. My father says
some of them are too ignorant for their places. _I_'m not ignorant. I'm
the best scholar in my class, and my class is the highest one in our
Primary. I could do it. I could so. But--Well, he was real nice. He
acted just as if he had little girls of his own and knew just how they
felt. He laughed at me, but he didn't laugh hateful, like Miss Georgia
does on her 'nervous days' when she mixes me all up in my lessons. And
anyhow, maybe it's just as well. If I'd got to be a letter-girl I
couldn't have gone to the country with father and mother, and I should
have about died of lonesomeness without them. Maybe Mrs. Bruce wouldn't
have had me, nor the minister's folks either. Anyway, I've got that
other, more splendid secret, still. I _have_ to have that, because I
have it already, and so can't help. Miss Georgia would say that there
were two too many 'haves' in that sentence, and the 'two too' sounds
funny, too. Now I must go home. I've got my money-letter all right and,
after all, I'm glad mother Martha doesn't know that I wanted father's
beat, she'd be so much disappointed to know how near we came to staying
here and couldn't."
With which philosophic acceptance of facts and a cheerful looking
forward to the "next thing," the rejected seeker after public office ran
up the hill leading from the post-office and straight against another
opportunity, as it were.
Just as she had signalled a car, the "gentleman" who had twice called
upon her and who had told her that his name was "John Smith," appeared
beside her on the sidewalk, raised his hat, and with an engaging air
exclaimed:
"Why, Miss Chester, how fortunate! I was just on the point of going to
see you. Now, if you will go with me, instead, it will save time and
answer just as well. We don't take this car, but another. My office is
on Howard Street, and we'll walk till we meet a Linden Avenue car. This
way, please. Allow me?"
But Dorothy shrank back from this overly pleasant man. It was with the
same feeling of repulsion that she had experienced on each of their
previous meetings, and which she had tried to conquer because of the
great benefit he claimed he had sought her to bestow upon her.
Her next sensation was one of pride, remembering that this was the
second time that morning for her to be called "Miss Chester." Each time
it had been by a grown-up gentleman and the fact made her feel quite
grown-up and important, also. Besides, this present person was able, he
said, to more than compensate for any disappointment the postmaster had
inflicted--though, of course, that affair was known only to "the head
man of all" and herself. However, she couldn't accept Mr. Smith's
invitation, for, she explained:
"Thank you, but I can't go with you now. I'm doing an errand for my
mother and she'll be expecting me home. She's very busy and needs me to
help her. Nor do I want to make her worry, for she has all the trouble
now she can bear. The first time I can come, if you'll tell me where,
I'll try to do so. Are you sure, sure, Mr. Smith, that I am really an
heiress and you will help me to get the money that belongs to me?"
"Perfectly sure. A lawyer like me doesn't waste his time on any doubtful
business. I have more cases on hand, this very minute, than I can attend
to and ought not to stand idle here one moment. Don't, I beg of you,
also stand in your own light, against your real interests and the
interests of those who are dearer to you than yourself. It is very
simple. As soon as you reach the office I'll give you paper and pen and
you can send a message to your mother, explaining that you have been
detained on business but will soon be with her. Ah, yes, the note by all
means. It quite goes against my nature to cause anybody needless
anxiety. Here's our car. Step in, please."
As she obeyed Dorothy thought that she had never heard anybody talk as
fast as the man did. Faster even than she did herself, and with an
assured air of authority which could not fail to impress an obedient
child, trained to accept the decisions of her elders without question.
She still tightly clutched the envelope containing the precious
ten-dollar bill, and had so nervously folded and unfolded it that, by
the time they reached the place on North Howard Street, it was in such a
state she was ashamed of it.
"Right up stairs, Miss Chester. Sorry I haven't an elevator to assist
you," remarked the lawyer, curiously regarding her feet in their poor
shoes. "However, there are plenty willing to climb three flights of
stairs for the sake of my advice. I've been in business right here in
Baltimore longer than I care to remember--it makes me feel so old.
Lawyers who have lovely young clients prefer to remain young themselves,
you know."
"No, I don't know. I know nothing about lawyers, anyway, and I don't
like it in here. I was never in such a dark house before. I--I think I
won't stay. I'll go home and tell my mother everything. That's what the
other gentleman advised and I--I _liked him_. Good-bye," said the now
frightened girl, and turned about on that flight to the third story.
But Mr. Smith was right behind her. She'd have to brush past him to
descend the narrow stairway, and he was again chattering away,
pretending not to hear her objections, but glibly explaining:
"The reason the house is so dark is because it is so old--one of the
oldest in the city, I've been told. Besides, each floor has been turned
into a flat, or suite of offices, and the tenants keep their doors
closed. That's why I chose the top story for my own use--it's so much
lighter, and--Here we are!"
Here they were, indeed, but by no stretch of imagination could the
apartment be called light. There was a skylight over the top of the
stairs, but this was darkened by gray holland shades, and though there
appeared to be three rooms on this floor, the doors of all were closed
as the doors on the floors below.
Dorothy was trembling visibly, as her guide opened the door of the
middle room--the "dark one" of the peculiarly constructed city
houses--and she faced absolute blackness. But her host seemed to know
the way and to be surprised that nobody was present to receive them.
With exclamations of annoyance he hurried to light a single gas jet and
the small flame illumined a dingy, most untidy "office."
Yet still with a grand flourish of manner the lawyer pushed a chair
before a littered desk, rummaged till he found paper, ink, and pen, and
waved his small client toward it. She was almost in tears, from her
fright; yet still bolstered her courage with the thought: "For my father
and mother!" and resolved to see the business through.
Certainly no such gentlemanly appearing person could intend injury to an
unprotected child. Why should she imagine it?
Drawing the paper toward her she began to write and had quickly finished
the brief note which told her mother as much, and no more than, her
instructor had prescribed. He had kept his eyes rather closely fixed
upon the wrinkled envelope she held, and now carelessly remarked:
"You could send that letter home with your note, too, if you wish,
though you'll be detained only a little while. I don't see why that
witness I spoke of hasn't come. I do hate a dilatory client! Will she
need it, do you think?"
"She might. I will send it, I guess," answered poor Dorothy, and giving
the folded envelope still another twist, enclosed and sealed it in her
own note which she handed to her "lawyer."
He took it, hastily, and informed her that he would "just trip down
those troublesome stairs and find a messenger boy, then be back in a
jiffy."
As he reckoned time a "jiffy" must have meant several hours; for the
whole day had passed and still he had not returned.