Life — December 1, 1904 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A CORNER IN WOMEN. McFERSON entered his office at g:o5. There was a heavy accumulation of mail on his des! “Robert,” he said to the office boy, “tell Miss Jones to come in.” Robert returned from the outer office in a moment. “Miss Jones hasn't got here yet, sir.” McFerson frowned. Miss Jones had never been late before. “Very well. Go out and see if you can get Miss Peterson.” Robert came back in another moment. “Miss Peterson is not here, si McFerson stopped short with his letter-opener in his hand. “What's the matter with this office force, anyhow?” he demanded. “These letters must be answered at once. If we don’t get an early start we can't get through with them. Robert, you go downstairs in the main corridor and see if that young woman typewriter can come right up.” Robert shot through the door. In a few moments he returned again. His face betrayed anxiety. “Not there, sir.” McFerson began to pace the floor. beyond measure. “Confound these girls!” he exclaimed. “I'll fire the whole lot of them. Let's see! There’s a typewriter agency in the next stre I'll tell ‘em to send over somebody.” He studied the telephone book for a moment, and then took down the receiver. No answer. McFerson joggled the thing up and down. He waited— and waited—h’s face betraying more impatience every min- ute. “Hello!” at last came over the wire—in a man’s voice. “Hello!” roared MecFerson. “What's the matter with you people, anyway? Never saw such service.” “We're short-handed,” was the reply. “Not a girl has shown up. I'm the chief operator.” “Not a girl showed up!” replied McFerson. “Well, tha my trouble. What's the matter with all the girls this morning, I wonder?” He asked for his number, and af- ter another long wait—again the man’s voice: He was irritated “Don't answer.” McFerson put down the receiver with a bang. He began to walk the floor. At this moment Spinnerton, the lawyer, whose office was across the way, came in. His face was pale. “Old man,” he said, “I'm in the deuce of a fix.” “What's the trouble?” “My wife’s disappeared.” “Disappeared!” “Yes—vanished during the night. where. I'm about crazy.” He caught McFerson by the arm and drew him to the window—a window that overlooked Broadway. “Look!” he exclaimed, “there's something mysterious in the air.” They gazed down on the crowded street. men were gathered together on the corners. gesticulating wildly. Moved by a common impulse, McFerson and Spinnerton made their way silently down into the street. “Has it occurred to you,” said Spinnerton, hoarsely, “that you haven't seen a woman this morning?” No,” said McFerson, “not until you spoke. By Jove, I haven't.” They hurried down Broadway. There was a suppressed air of excitement. Snatches of exclamations came to them on every side. “Wife gone.” “Girls disappeared.” “Where’s my mother?” They accosted a stranger, who was holding a baby in his arms. “What's the matter this morning?” asked McFerson “So far as can be ascertained,” replied the man, “all the women in New York have disappeared. It’s a nice situa- tion, isn’t it? Christmas season just coming on, and no- body here to see it through. I'm the father of ten chil- dren.” He hurried along. McFerson and Spinnerton took their station in front of a ferry house. They waited while the streams of people passed out. All men—not a woman among them. Can't find her any- Groups of Some were comicbooks.com