April 4, 19--.
Dearest K:
You don't need to think you're the only one having adventures with your
work. Your little old Sahwah is a sure enough grown up young lady now, a
real wage-earner, making her little track along the Open Road, and
frequently stepping into mud holes and falling flat on her face. I'm
"Miss Brewster" now, in a tailored suit and plain shirtwaist, ready to
conquer the world with a notebook and typewriter. I finished my course at
the business college early in February, and one day while I was in the
last stages of completion as a stenographer and nearly ready to have a
shipping tag pasted on me in the shape of a graduation certificate, I was
summoned into the private office of Mr. Barrett, the head of the school.
I had a chill when the office girl brought me the message. There were
only two or three things you were ever sent to Mr. Barrett for. One was
failure to pay your tuition; another was doing so poorly in your work
that you were a disgrace instead of a credit to the school; another was
for "skipping school." A number of the girls were in the habit of cutting
classes after lunch several days in the week and either going to the
matinee or running around town with boys from the school. Many complaints
about this had come to Mr. Barrett from the teachers, until he got so
that he sent for everyone who skipped and read them a stiff lecture. He
is a very stern, austere man, and the whole school stands in dread of
him.
I went over my list of sins when I was summoned to the office. My tuition
was paid up until the end; there was no trouble there. It wouldn't be my
lessons either; for, while I was far from being the eighth wonder of the
world on the typewriter, I still had managed to stay in the "A" division
since the first. But--here my hair began to stand on end--I had "skipped
school" the afternoon before. Slim had come home from college to attend
the funeral of his grandfather, and had called me up and invited me to go
automobiling with him while he was waiting for his train to go back, and
you can guess what happened to Duty. I just naturally skipped school and
went with him. It was the first and only time I had skipped in my whole
career, but I was evidently going to get my trimmings for it. I went into
the office with a sinking heart, for up until this time I had managed to
keep in Mr. Barrett's good graces, and I did pride myself quite a bit on
my unreproved state. But I made up my mind to take it like a good
sport--I had danced and now I would pay the piper.
Having gone into the office in such a state of mind, I wasn't prepared
for the shock when Mr. Barrett looked up from his desk and greeted me
with a (for him) extremely amiable smile.
"Sit down, Miss Brewster," he said pleasantly, pulling up a chair for me
beside his own.