The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

624 Polhemus evenings, and get a better line on his ideas. So, once more, it’s business versus pleasure. Never mind. As soon as I’m settled in the managership, we'll be able to think a little about a date to put on wedding invitations. For it won’t take me long to fix things so that it will be a partnership as well. CHAPTER XVIII. A CASE OF ENDURANCE. ~ ELL, a week or two of it won’t kill me.” Just how many times Orton had thought that out in the days and nights that brought him to Sunday afternoon and, in- stead of the long drive he had expected, utter idleness in conformity to the Puritan standards of the mistress of the house— just how many times and how many ways he had reached that conclusion was more than he could have reckoned. Two weeks of it or less—especially less— would not kill him. On the strength of that thought he had hoed corn, washed windows, beaten carpets, mowed lawns, trimmed hedges, swept porches—done about all the things he had never dreamed of himself as doing for hire. And, while he did them, he thought of the factory job ahead. In a factory he could show what he was worth. Even if he were started as a com- mon mechanic, he would quickly prove his abilities. But Mr. Polhemus would hardly pay him twenty-five dollars now with the expectation of putting him down to a me- chanic’s wage on the real job that was to be his. It would be a foremanship at least, more likely the head of some department. And then—Orton could see himself going right up to the top. Superintendent of the factory by the end of a year; a member of the firm in two years. It had been done before in many a business. When a man proved himself invaluable he got things. In the quiet stillness of that Sabbath afternoon, Mr. Polhemus joined him in the orchard, where Hardy was exercising the privilege of smoking behind the house. He had not talked more than two minutes before he made known why he wished to - talk at all. “By the way,” he mentioned casually, it seemed at first, “I was looking over one of your cars yesterday. Mr. Brooks—you may remember selling it to him. Very good THE ARGOSY. little car for the money, I should say. Why didn’t it go?” And Orton realized that it was his busi- ness ability which was being put under cross-examination. He realized it more fully as the question was followed by oth- ers; as Mr. Polhemus showed more and more dissatisfaction with the answers, though keeping up the appearance of an entirely impersonal interest. The realiza- tion grew painful. ‘The truth of the matter,’ Orton finally explained nervously, “is that my nerves were going to pieces. I was almost a wreck from lack of sleep and worry. It was a case of get out before I was taken out and sent to a sanatorium while the concern went to smash and left my creditors in the lurch. _I hadn’t time or money to get the business away from being entirely a one-man affair; and the one man was on the edge of a breakdown.” This was his last line in what had bhe- come a veritable plea of defense. A genius may get “sick” of a job and drop it with a lot of money; a real business man finds it hard to understand that sort of thing. Orton was finding it hard to explain to a business man. Viewed in the light of his present posi- tion, it was rather hard for him to explain satisfactorily to himself why he had let go so hurriedly and unprofitably. In spite of all his hopes, there had been moments dur- ing the four days under Mrs. Polhemus’s régime when the hardest hours of his ex- perience as a manufacturer had looked like precious moments of sheer joy. Orton reddened under Mr. Polhemus’s blinking ‘scrutiny. He wished he looked several shades paler. “Tt’s too bad.” The manufacturer of Polhemotors spoke mildly.. “Of course one needs a strong constitution to handle busi- ness in these days. I should think the work here would soon get you into good shape again.” Orton grasped at the opportunity—or the straw. “Oh, yes, sir. Of course the main thing was relief from the worry. I had a short vacation at Atlantic City before I came up here. Ill be ready to go back to work any time now.” “T hope so,” said Mr. Polhemus. “I am really considering you in connection with a quite responsible position. I was a little afraid that you were—er—stronger on EOPMIC LOOKS (E©)