She
clasped her hands entreatingly as the superintendent rudely turned his
back upon her.
"Can't do it, I tell you, so there's no use taking up any more of my
time! Well, what is it, Watkins?"
The question was addressed to an employee, a pale, slim young man, who
had just entered the office.
"Excuse me, Mr. Forbes, but there's three clerks absent to-day. They
have sent word that they are sick. Mr. Gibson told me to tell you."
"Who are they, do you know?"
Mr. Forbes spoke sharply, his face flushing with anger.
"Miss Jennings and Miss Brown--" began the young man, but his superior
stopped him before he could finish.
"That Miss Jennings is faking! She is no more sick than I am! This is
the third time this month that she has staid away because of sickness!
It's probably an excuse to go on some picnic or other. Tell Mr. Gibson
that I say to fine her double the regular amount. We must put a stop to
this sham sickness among the women clerks; it's getting too frequent!"
"But I am sure Miss Jennings is sick," began Mr. Watkins, impetuously.
"You should hear her cough! And I know her mother died of consumption."
"You know too much for your own good, Watkins," broke in the
superintendent, sharply. "Just keep your knowledge to yourself if you
wish to hold your position in this establishment!"
A flush rose quickly to the young man's brow.
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