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Updated: June 18, 2025
"She keeps to herself and minds her own affairs. You can see she comes of good stock." Miss Ottway herself was proud of her New England blood. "Her father, you know, is the gatekeeper down there. He's been unfortunate." "You don't say I didn't connect her with him. Fine looking old man. A friend of mine who recommended him told me he'd seen better days ...."
Ditmar," Janet said, and added nothing, no word of gratitude or of appreciation to that consent. "Very well then," he replied, "that's settled. Miss Ottway will explain things to you, and tell you about my peculiarities. And when she goes you can take her desk, by the window nearest my door."
The following Monday Miss Ottway overtook her, at noon, on the stairs. "Janet, I wanted to speak to you, to tell you I'm leaving," she said. "Leaving!" repeated Janet, who had regarded Miss Ottway as a fixture. "I'm going to Boston," Miss Ottway explained, in her deep, musical voice. "I've always wanted to go, I have an unmarried sister there of whom I'm very fond, and Mr. Ditmar knows that.
You understand, of course, that the position is in a way confidential, and that you could not expect at first, at any rate, the salary Miss Ottway has had, but I'm willing to offer you fourteen dollars a week to begin with, and afterwards, if we get along together, to give you more. What do you say?" "I'd like to try it, Mr.
Later in the morning, quite casually, he made inquiries of Miss Ottway, who liked Janet and was willing to do her a good turn. "Why, she's a clever girl, Mr. Ditmar, a good stenographer, and conscientious in her work. She's very quick, too. "Yes, I've noticed that," Ditmar replied, who was quite willing to have it thought that his inquiry was concerned with Janet's aptitude for business.
"She keeps to herself and minds her own affairs. You can see she comes of good stock." Miss Ottway herself was proud of her New England blood. "Her father, you know, is the gatekeeper down there. He's been unfortunate." "You don't say I didn't connect her with him. Fine looking old man. A friend of mine who recommended him told me he'd seen better days...."
Ditmar," Janet said, and added nothing, no word of gratitude or of appreciation to that consent. "Very well then," he replied, "that's settled. Miss Ottway will explain things to you, and tell you about my peculiarities. And when she goes you can take her desk, by the window nearest my door."
I'm real glad to do you a good turn, Janet, and I know you'll get along," Miss Ottway added impulsively as they parted at the corner of Faber Street. "I've always thought a good deal of you." For awhile Janet stood still, staring after the sturdy figure of her friend, heedless of the noonday crowd that bumped her.
He regretted the capricious and apparently accidental impulse that had made him pretend to tinker with his automobile that day by the canal, that had led him to the incomparable idiocy of getting rid of Miss Ottway and installing the disturber of his peace as his private stenographer. What the devil was it in her that made him so uncomfortable?
He never had to tell her a thing twice, nor did she interrupt as Miss Ottway sometimes had done the processes of his thought. Without realizing it he fell into the habit of listening for the inflections of her voice, and though he had never lacked the power of making decisions, she somehow made these easier for him especially if, a human equation were involved.
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