"That's all," he said, and turned back to his soapbox. There was
nothing for me to do now but to type-write those letters. I stared at
that machine blindly, and to put off the evil moment, I tried to engage
my "boss" in conversation while pretending to dust the machine.
"Mr. O'Brien, have--have you many babies here?" I asked.
"Thousands," he returned.
"It must be like a hospital," said I.
He grunted. I've often thought that O'Brien delighted to put
stenographers through that "baby" joke, but I don't suppose any other
girl was ever quite so gullible as I.
"I'd like to see some of them," I said.
"You're looking at them now," said he.
I looked about me, but I saw no babies. O'Brien was digging down in the
box. Suddenly he tossed up a handful of odd-shaped pieces on his desk.
Then I understood. They were all in the shape of babies--Wool-Soap
babies! O'Brien, with his tobacco in his cheek, thought it a good joke
on me.
I stuck the paper into the type-writer, and then I began slowly to
write, pecking out each letter with my index-finger. I felt rather than
saw O'Brien slowly turning round in his seat, and though I dared not
look up, I felt both his and Red Top's amazed eyes on my slowly moving
fingers. Suddenly O'Brien stood up.
"Well, upon my word," said he, "you sure are a twin of that friend of
yours! I like your nerve!"
I sat still in my seat, just staring at the type, and a fearful lump
came up in my throat and almost choked me. I could not see a thing for
the tears that came welling up despite myself, but I held them back
fiercely.
Suddenly O'Brien snapped out in his most angry and snarling tone:
"Say, who are you staring at, anyway?"
I thought he meant me, and I started to protest that I was merely
looking at the type, when I heard the feet of Red Top shuffle, and he
said, oh, so meekly and respectfully:
"Yes, sir; I ain't staring at _her_, sir."
I was relieved, anyway, of a part of the pressure, for the office boy
was now busy at some files. I found enough courage at last to look at
O'Brien. He was studying me as if I were some strange curiosity that
both amused and amazed him.
"You're a nice one, aren't you," said he, "to take a job at fifteen per
as an experienced and expert stenographer and--"