Selected Stories of O. Henry (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

With a quick “Good-morning, Pitcher,” Maxwell dashed at his table as if he have been meaning to jump over it, after which plunged into the good heap of letters and telegrams ready there for him. The younger woman have been Maxwell’s stenographer for a 12 months. She used to be appealing in a manner that used to be decidedly unstenographic. She forewent the pomp of the eye-catching pompadour. She wore no chains, bracelets, or lockets. She had now not the air of being approximately to simply accept a call for participation to luncheon. Her costume used to be grey and undeniable, however it geared up her determine with constancy and reticence. In her neat black turban hat used to be the gold-green wing of a macaw. in this morning she used to be softly and shyly radiant. Her eyes have been dreamily vivid, her cheeks actual peach-blow, her expression a cheerful one, tinged with memory. Pitcher, nonetheless mildly curious, spotted a distinction in her methods this morning. rather than going instantly into the adjacent room, the place her table was once, she lingered, somewhat irresolute, within the outer place of work. as soon as she moved over by way of Maxwell’s table, close to sufficient for him to pay attention to her presence. The computing device sitting at that table used to be now not a guy; it used to be a hectic long island dealer, moved by means of humming wheels and uncoiling springs. “Well—what is it? something? ” requested Maxwell, sharply. His opened mail lay like a financial institution of level snow on his crowded table. His prepared grey eye, impersonal and brusque, flashed upon her part impatiently. “Nothing,” spoke back the stenographer, relocating away with a bit smile. “Mr. Pitcher,” she stated to the exclusive clerk, “did Mr. Maxwell say something the previous day approximately attractive one other stenographer? ” “He did,” replied Pitcher. “He instructed me to get one other one. I notified the enterprise the day past afternoon to ship over a number of samples this morning. It’s nine. forty five o‘clock, and never a unmarried photograph hat or piece of pineapple chewing gum has confirmed up but. ” “I will do the paintings as ordinary, then,” stated the younger girl, “until a few one involves fill where. ” and she or he went to her table instantly and hung the black turban hat with the gold-green macaw wing in its accustomed position. He who has been denied the spectacle of a hectic long island dealer in the course of a hurry of industrial is handicapped for the career of anthropology. The poet sings of the “crowded hour of excellent existence. ”1 The broker’s hour is not just crowded, yet mins and seconds are striking to the entire straps and packing either entrance and rear structures. And today used to be Harvey Maxwell’s busy day. The ticker started to reel out jerkily its fitful coils of tape, the table phone had a protracted assault of humming. males started to throng into the place of work and speak to at him over the railing, jovially, sharply, viciously, excitedly. Messenger boys ran out and in with messages and telegrams. The clerks within the place of work jumped approximately like sailors in the course of a typhoon. Even Pitcher’s face cozy into whatever reminiscent of animation. at the trade there have been hurricanes and landslides and snowstorms and glaciers and volcanoes, and people elemental disturbances have been reproduced in miniature within the broker’s places of work.