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Updated: June 18, 2025
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.
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's got me a place with the Treasurer, Mr. Semple." "Oh, I'm sorry you're going, though of course I'm glad for you," Janet said sincerely, for she liked and respected Miss Ottway, and was conscious in the older woman of a certain kindly interest. "Janet, I've recommended you to Mr. Ditmar for my place." "Oh!" cried Janet, faintly.
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.
Then she went to Grady's Quick Lunch Counter and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk, which she consumed slowly, profoundly sunk in thought. Presently Eda Rawle arrived, and noticing her preoccupation, inquired what was the matter. "Nothing," said Janet.... At two o'clock, when Ditmar returned to the office, he called Miss Ottway, who presently came out to summon Janet to his presence.
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.
She refused to help him, although Miss Ottway must have warned her. She acted as though she were conferring the favour. And yet, clearing his throat, he was impelled to say: "Miss Ottway's leaving me, she's going into the Boston office with Mr. Semple, the treasurer of the corporation. I shall miss her, she's an able and reliable woman, and she knows my ways." He paused, fingering his paper knife.
"I'm glad you're interested," he said, in the same odd, awkward tone. "I've never had any one in the office who did my work as well. Now Miss Ottway was a good stenographer, she was capable, and a fine woman, but she never got the idea, the spirit of the mill in her as you've got it, and she wasn't able to save me trouble, as you do.
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