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Updated: June 15, 2025
The secretary was out, but his stenographer confirmed the circular. Fred went back to his office to think things over. Again he was tempted to repudiate the Brauer check at the bank and let Brauer do his worst. But he drew back from such a course with his usual repugnance. He saw now that all his high-flown theory about standing on his own feet was the merest sophistry.
The fourth was noncommittal, but it was the fifth client who produced the straw that betrayed the direction of the wind. "I want to see Brauer," the man said. "He promised to do something for me." The sixth customer was even more direct. "There's something to come off the premium," he said. "Brauer knows."
And perhaps after a few moments she would slip away herself for a visit to the lunch-room. Mr. Brauer, watching Front Office through his glass doors, attempted in vain to discourage these excursions. The bolder spirits enjoyed defying him, and the more timid never dared to leave their places in any case.
Just what did happen?" Fred recited the events briefly. When he had finished, the attorney said: "Everything depends on this man Brauer. I'll have to get in touch with him to-day. Hilmer told me to use my own judgment about bail... I guess it's all right." A hot flush overspread Fred's face, but it died quickly. He could stand any insult now.
"He'll have a desk in Brauer's office," Miss Thornton explained. "He is to learn this branch, and be manager some day. George says that Brauer is going to buy into the firm." "Well, for Heaven's sake!" Susan's thoughts flew. "But, Thorny," she presently submitted, "isn't Peter Coleman in college?" Miss Thornton looked mysterious, looked regretful.
The dream Susan's hair was irreproachably neat, she wore shining little house-slippers, and she always laughed out, the ringing peal of bells that Henry Brauer had once heard in the real Susan's laugh, when her husband teased her about her old fancy for Peter Coleman.
And perhaps he never did. If he did, the office presented him a blank and innocent face. "Miss Brown, did you see this bill Mr. Brauer speaks of?" "Beg pardon? Oh, no, Miss Thornton." "Miss Cashell, did you? " "Just-one-moment-Miss-Thornton-until-I-foot-up- this-column. Thank you! No. No, I haven't seen it, Miss Thornton. Did you trace it to my desk, Mr. Brauer?" Baffled, Mr.
Business began to pour in from Brauer and, frankly, Fred was disturbed. He wasn't sure of Brauer's business scruples. "I wonder if he's promising these people rebates," he said to Helen one day, following an avalanche of new risks. "Well, you'll know soon enough when he begins to collect the premiums," she replied, indifferently.
Brauer had had a conference, as the lady called it, immediately after his arrival at nine o'clock, and Miss Murray, who sat next to Miss Thornton, suspected that it had had something to do with her neighbor's ill-temper.
What could Brauer do about it, anyway? As a matter of fact, he figured that under the circumstances he had a perfect right to stop payment on that Brauer check if he had been so disposed. For a moment the thought allured him. But his surrender to such a petty retaliation, passed swiftly. No, he wouldn't tar himself with any such defiling brush.
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