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It was his idea to move me into your office I guess you thought you picked me out; but he gave me a quiet tip to ask you for the job. Well, he'd been dropping into the construction office now and then to see me you know the boss was never in town and I hadn't much to do. He used to dictate letters said he couldn't trust the public stenogs in the hotels; and one day he gave me that letter to copy.
And his little tales about the parties he'd been to on the night before was usually interestin'. Which was bad for the general morale, as you can guess. Also his light and frivolous way of chuckin' zippy lady stenogs under the chin and callin' 'em "Dearie" didn't help his standin' any. Yeauh! He was some boy, Amby, while he lasted.
"Oh, I dun'no'; you're so darn honest, and you got so much more sense than this bunch of Bronx totties. Gee! they'll make bum stenogs. I know. I've worked in an office.
"That's goin' to call for speed," says I. "I don't see how you could Say, now! I just thought of something. We might tickle Uncle Sam in the W. R. I. B." "Beg pardon!" says Waddy, gawpin'. "War Risk Insurance Bureau," I explains. "That is, if Miss Callahan's still there. Used to be one of our stenogs until she went into war work.
You know that style of lid ain't worn a great deal by our Broadway stenogs. Not the home crocheted kind. Hardly. I should judge that most of our flossy bunch wouldn't be satisfied until they'd swapped two weeks' salary for some Paris model up at Mme. Violette's.
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