Ordinarily these things are expected from a mountain constructionist and
elicit no comment from headquarters, but the matter at the Spider was one
that could hardly pass unnoticed. For a year Glover had been begging for
a stenographer. Writing, to him, was as distasteful as soda-water, and
one morning soon after his return from the valley flood a letter came
with the news that a competent stenographer had been assigned to him and
would report at once for duty at Medicine Bend.
Glover emerged from his hall-office in great spirits and showed the
letter to Callahan, the general superintendent, for congratulations.
"That is right," commented Callahan cynically. "You saved them a hundred
thousand dollars last month--they are going to blow ten a week on you.
By the way, your stenographer is here."
"He is?"
"She is. Your stenographer, a very dignified young lady, came in on
Number One. You had better go and get shaved. She has been in to
inquire for you and has gone to look up a boarding-place. Get her
started as soon as you can--I want to see your figures on the Rat Cañon
work."
A helper now would be a boon from heaven. "But she won't stay long after
she sees this office," Glover reflected ruefully as he returned to it.
He knew from experience that stenographers were hard to hold at Medicine
Bend. They usually came out for their health and left at the slightest
symptoms of improvement. He worried as to whether he might possibly have
been unlucky enough to draw another invalid. And at the very moment he
had determined he would not lose his new assistant if good treatment
would keep her he saw a trainman far down the gloomy hall pointing a
finger in his direction--saw a young lady coming toward him and realized
he ought to have taken time that morning to get shaved.
There was nothing to do but make the best of it; dismissing his
embarrassment he rose to greet the newcomer. His first reflection was
that he had not drawn an invalid, for he had never seen a fresher face in
his life, and her bearing had the confidence of health itself.
"I heard you had been here," he said reassuringly as the young lady
hesitated at his door.
"Pardon me?"
"I heard you had been here," he repeated with deference.
"I wish to send a despatch," she replied with an odd intonation. Her
reply seemed so at variance with his greeting that a chill tempered his
enthusiasm. Could they possibly have sent him a deaf stenographer?--one
worn in the exacting service at headquarters? There was always a fly
somewhere in his ointment, and so capable and engaging a young lady
seemed really too good to be true. He saw the message blank in her hand.
"Let me take it," he suggested, and added, raising his voice, "It shall
go at once." The young lady gave him the message and sitting down at his
desk he pressed an electric call. Whatever her misfortunes she enlisted
his sympathy instantly, and as no one had ever accused him of having a
weak voice he determined he would make the best of the situation. "Be
seated, please," he said. She looked at him curiously. "Pray, be
seated," he repeated more firmly.