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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Miss Morgan," says he, "business begins here at nine o'clock promptly." "How absurd!" says Mildred, and Piddie don't get over the shock for an hour. About the second week all hands took a vote that Mildred wa'n't much of a success as a typewriter artist and that she ought to be fired. The old man put it up to Mr. Robert, and Mr. Robert shoves it back at him.
Besides, his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr. Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine. Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage the Corrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough except Piddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call from the Main Stem, and a few minutes later Mr.
He goes in with his brow wrinkled up and his knees shakin', and a few minutes later he comes out pale in the gills and with a wild look in his eyes. "What's the scandal, Piddie?" says I. "Been sent to summon the firin' squad, or what?"
"They're goin' to let me finish out the week," says I. "Ain't they the gentle things?" Then I skips out for the 23d-st. boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouth open, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other, I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast.
You know these mush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"? He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it in his sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit. under one. It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forget all the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in a month more.
But she never even quivers one of her long eyelashes, so Piddie reports. She just comes back at 'em with a sketchy, friendly little smile and proceeds to tackle her work business-like. And inside of ten days she has the lot of 'em eatin' out of her hand.
The people Piddie was doin' business with was that kind. Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st., where the mounted cops keep the big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch the doorknobs off the Subtreasury.
It's well along in the afternoon before I sees an openin' to drop this option in front of Old Hickory, grabbin' a minute when his desk is fairly clear, and slammin' it down just as though it had been sent in through Piddie. "Delivered on," says I. "Wants rush answer by mail." "Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, lightin' up a fresh Cassadora.
You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up, the whole Corrugated Trust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J. Hemmingway Piddie, Esq., worked his giant intellect for the good of the country. "That's it," says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late as four o'clock; but " "Oh! then we'll not wait," says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must go home."
"Pardon me, sir," says Hartley, "but several weeks ago I put in a request for an increase in salary, to take effect this month." "Oh, did you?" says Piddie, springin' that sarcastic smile of his. "Do I understand that it was an ultimatum?" "Why er I hadn't thought of putting it in that form, sir," says Hartley, blinkin' something like an owl that's been poked off his nest.
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