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Updated: June 29, 2025
She offered Kedzie a post as a typist, but Kedzie could not type; as a film-cutter's assistant, but Kedzie had never seen a film; as a printing-machine engineer or a bookkeeper's clerk, but Kedzie had no ability to do things. She could merely look things. Finally Miss Havender said: "I'm awfully sorry, Miss Adair, but the only position open is a place as extra woman.
"He has a bookkeeper's job with Tractions for a month now, and I promised his aunt I would ask how he's comin'." "How touchin'!" says I as he moves off. I gazes after him curious a minute, and then follows a sudden hunch. Why not see just how much of a bluff this was about Cousin Abie? So I slips around by the cigar stand, steps behind a pillar, and keeps him in range.
"Are you sure, dear? Fancy a bookkeeper's lot, or a clerk's reckoning up columns of figures so like there is not a particle of variety; not a new or thrilling idea in all their round of work from January to December, unless we except a column that won't come right. That may have a thrill in it now and then, but certainly not a joyous one.
"Put it in your shirt," he instructed. "Deliver it to the office at the mine and take the bookkeeper's receipt. Then report to my office here in town. I wish you luck, and I want you to know that I have the utmost confidence in you." "You keep such large sums on hand all the time?" Rathburn asked, putting the package in his shirt.
Rachel Ellis learned many of them by heart, but she, too, wept as she recited them to herself or to Laban. In the little bookkeeper's room above Simond's shoe store The Lances of Dawn lay under the lamp upon the center table as before a shrine. Captain Zelotes read the verses.
And this time, just as on the day when the other fateful telegram came, Laban Keeler was the first of the office regulars to learn its contents. Ben Kelley himself brought this message, just as he had brought that telling of Albert Speranza's death. And the usually stolid Ben was greatly excited. He strode straight from the door to the bookkeeper's desk.
"I hate to see sorrow." "Sorrow is about all you have a chance to see in this place." "Yes," admitted the guard, sliding away. The warden had given Vaniman a bookkeeper's job. But the prison office was a gloomy place and the windows were hatefully barred Through the bars he could see convict toilers wheeling barrows of dirt. They were filling up a lime-quarry pit within the walls.
The old bookkeeper's whole life cried out against a sin like that. To falsify the books! Closing the ledger, he took up the cash drawer and started for the safe. The watchman came in again. "Done?" said he. "Done," said Jamie. The watchman went out, and Jamie entered the roomy old safe. He put the ledgers and the cash drawer in their places; but the sudden darkness blinded his eyes.
The little fenced-in box, hanging high above eager shoppers, was as a peaceful haven in a storm of raging noises. From without, gusts of merriment shrieked and whistled, while above them boomed the raucous cries of showmen, drowned in their turn by the indefatigable brass-band. The atmosphere of the bookkeeper's loft was a wedge of silence, splitting a solidarity of tumult.
"I don't I don't seem to be able to to get things through." "Get things through? I should say not," shouted Maitland, glaring at him. "I have tried, I mean I'm afraid I'm that I am not quite up to it, as I used to be. I get confused and " The old bookkeeper's lips were white and quivering. He could not get on with his story. "Here, take these away," roared Maitland.
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