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Updated: June 12, 2025
She knew she would find Mary Cutting there Mary Cutting, friend, counselor, adviser to every young girl in the great store and to all Chicago's silly, helpless "chickens." A dragon sat before Mary Cutting's door and wrote names on slips. But at sight of Emma McChesney she laid down her pencil. "Well," smiled the dragon, "you're a sight for sore eyes. There's nobody in there with her.
Plans and ambitions are things to be kept locked away in your heart, Son, with no one but yourself to take an occasional peep at them." Jock leaned over the table, with his charming smile. "You're a jealous blonde," he laughed. "Because I'm going to be a captain of finance an advertising wizard; you're afraid I'll grab the glory all away from you." Mrs. McChesney folded her napkin and rose.
"We will now consider the question of summer underwear ended. Would it bore you too much to touch lightly on the subject of your son's future?" Emma McChesney, tall, straight, handsome, looked up at her son, taller, straighter, handsomer. Then she took him by the coat lapels and hugged him. "You were so bursting with your own glory that I couldn't resist teasing you.
"It's been my experience," observed Emma McChesney, "that when a firm condescends to pay a woman twice as much as a man, that means she's worth six times as much." A painful red crept into Jock's face. "Maybe. Two years ago that would have sounded reasonable to me. Two years ago, when I walked down Broadway at night, a fifty-foot electric sign at Forty-second was just an electric sign to me.
"McChesney?" repeated Miss Galt, crisply. "I know a Mrs. McChesney, of the T.A. Buck " "My mother," proudly. "Your mother! Then why " She stopped. "Because," said Jock, "I'm the rawest rooky in the Berg, Shriner Company. And when I begin to realize what I don't know about advertising I'll probably want to plunge off the Palisades." Miss Galt smiled up at him, her clear, frank eyes meeting his.
So she stopped one of the older clerks, blushed a little, and said, 'Can you tell me the way to the office of the Comfort Lady? That's worth working for, isn't it, Emma McChesney?" "It's worth living for," answered Emma McChesney, gravely. "It it's worth dying for. To think that those girls come to you with their little sacred things, their troubles, and misfortunes, and unhappinesses and "
We were but three leagues from Vincennes. A raft was bound together, and Tom McChesney and three other scouts sent on a desperate journey across the river in search of boats and provisions, lest we starve and fall and die on the wet flats. Before he left Tom came to me, and the remembrance of his gaunt face haunted me for many years after.
But he stayed on at Buck's, and no one dreamed of insulting him with talk of a pension, least of all Emma. She saw the work-worn pathetic old man not only as a figure but as a symbol. Jock McChesney, very young, very handsome, very successful, coming on to New York from Chicago to be married in June, found his mother wrapped in this contemplative calm.
I won't allow it!" "Tut, tut, T. A.! What is this? Cave-man stuff?" "Emma, I tell you it's dangerous. It isn't worth the risk, no matter what it brings us." Emma McChesney struck an attitude, hand on heart. "'Heaven will protect the working girrul," she sang. Buck grabbed his hat. "I'm going to wire Jock." "All right! That'll save me fifty cents. Do you know what he'll wire back? 'Go to it.
Their floor attained, he unlocked the apartment door and threw it open with a gesture which was a miraculous mixture of royalty and generosity. "He knows you!" hissed Emma McChesney, entering with T. A. "Another ten on the rent. "The agent pulled up a shade, switched on a light, straightened an electric globe.
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