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"She's gone crazy as a loon," whispered one of the policemen to the other. "Where is my wife?" timidly asked Trubus, as he supported himself with one hand on a table near the door. The frightened butler, with choleric red face, pointed upward. Trubus drew himself up and started for the broad stairway. Just then a revolver shot smote the ears of the excited men. It came from above.
You're getting war methods now, Trubus after waging war from ambush for all this time. Burke, you had better have the young ladies taken home. Go up with them. Use the automobile outside. You can have the evening off as soon as we get through the arraignment at court." It took an hour before the first charges could be brought to the Magistrate, through whose hands all cases must first be carried.
"Do you know this man, Miss Barton?" The name had a strangely familiar sound to Trubus. He wondered uneasily. "He is William Trubus, president of the Purity League. I worked for him to-day." "Do you recognize this man?" was queried, as Clemm shuffled forward, with the assistance of Burke's sturdy push. "This is the one who was embracing the other telephone girl. But he did not stay there long.
"William, I find this brazen creature standing here hugging this man, as though your office, the Purity League's headquarters, were some Lover's Lane! It is disgusting." "Well, well, my dear," stammered Trubus. "Don't be too harsh." "I am not harsh, but I have too much respect for you and the high ideals for which I know you battle every hour of the day to endure such a thing.
"That's right, girlie," responded Clemm, as he ingratiatingly placed an arm about her wasp-like waist. "But two's company, and four's too much of a corporation for me." "Oh, Mr. Clemm nix on this in here Mr. Trubus is in his office, and he'll get wise...." As she spoke, not Mr. Trubus, but his estimable wife interrupted the progress of the courtship.
The president of the Purity League retired to his sanctum, slightly mollified. Mary had not been at her post long when a messenger came in with a telegram. "Mr. Trubus!" he said, shoving the envelope at her. She signed his book, and knocked at the door. There was a little delay, and the worthy man opened it impatiently. "I do not want to be interrupted, I am going over my accounts."
Trubus gave the philanthropist one deep look which seemed to cause aphasia on the remainder of the Scriptural quotation. For the first time Trubus noticed Mary Barton, standing in embarrassed silence by the door, wishing that she could escape from the scene. "Who is this young person, my dear?" "This is a young girl who is in deep trouble, and without a position through no fault of her own.
I brought her down to your office to have you help her, William." "But, alas, our finances are so low that we have no room for any additional office force," began Trubus. "There, that will do. If you pay twenty-five dollars a week to the telephone operator no wonder the finances are low. You have just discharged her, and I insist on your giving this young lady an opportunity."
"We had better go up to your father and tell him what we know it is not as bad as it might have been." "Precious little comfort," sighed Mary, exhausted beyond tears. They reached the desolate home, and Bob broke the news to the old man. As Mary poured forth her story of the discovery in Trubus' office, her father's face lighted with renewed hope.
Come right along, now, with me." "Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly. But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, to the wardrobe room for her hat and coat. "How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she was leaving with Mrs. Trubus. Mary did not hear him.
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