Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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THB REVEILLE

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THE REVEILLE AAA eee THE LAST NOTCH. Suggested by a story in the “Black Cat.” By Gustav Patz. Poor Tom Bailey, Manager of the Public Stenographic Concern, was in desperate straits. Why: do you ask? Well, you see, Tom was a young man, possibly twenty-five years of age, who had set up in busi- ness as a public stenographer in the prominent business street of his home town, a concern of which he was the owner and manager. His business had so increased that, after vain efforts to dispense with out- side assi he was at last compelled to engage a stenographer. To repeat, Tom was the whole concern, except that authoritative, supreme functionary of any blooming, prosperous business—THE В! SS. Sad to relate, Tom coul ` anything but that—any step in the scale of office positions was graced by his portly personage but to be supreme master of all irvey was an ideal, an aspiration to be striven for. When Tom finally d that he must have an assistant in the ıu, he was at a loss to get competent help; words, an assistant who would not only turn out immaculate whose pleasing, attractive personality would act as a booster to the business, as it were; that is, attract trade. What was more natural and more logical then that Tom should engage a female stenographer? His advertisement calling for a “young lady of sterling ability and of attractive personality was answered by a veritable host of Miss Stenog- raphers—in fact it was siege in the true sense of the word, until poor Tom, bewildered, confused by the storm, had summarily disposed of the horde of applicants and installed a young lady as stenographer who would, in his estimation, fill the most exacting requirements of the position. His choice, in short, was a good one. His typist was a wonder— neat. accurate work, skill in the use of the machine—a find, to be sure. And not only this; she was the proverbial typist—beautiful as a picture, courteous and obliging, and Tom awaited the results of his new venture with great expectations. Business increased—things were going smoothly—in fact, it seemed too good to last, and Tom was already congratulating himself on his success, when One day, about closing time, his stenographer, addressing him, said: Mr. Bailey, a word with you, please? I—— Why, certainly, Miss Blake, exclaimed Tom, with his usual courtesy. I wish to say, she continued, that I shall resign my position be- cause, because——.” she continued, blushing rosily, I am engaged to be married. I—— “Married?” echoed Tom, in dismay. Surely you can’t mean that!” “To be sure, Mr. Bailey,” returned the stenographer. “PIL double your salary. What is wrong with your position? Say the word, and the wrong shall be adjusted. I'll do anything in the world if you will only stay. Do stay!” “Hardly, Mr. Bailey,” she replied, with a smile. “If Mr. Richardson, my be—— “So that’s the fellow who’s trying to spirit you away, is it? And опе of our regular customers, too.” For, you know, this “picture” of a stenographer could not help attract- ing the attention of the lawyers, doctors and other professional men who called at the Public Stenographic Bureau on business, and Mr. Richardson, a rising young doctor, fell a victim to her charms and then

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THE REVEILLE 19 ` found to his astonishment, that his homely heery greeting, a witty reply to any jest passed, for every he Public Stenograph jureau. Tom literally began to pat back for the ight th: had a permanent assistant transported him into the aven of delight. At any rate s satisfied with the turn of events. ; 1 ) an informal reception, lly met Mi 22 [ cour ' was introduced by very well th: 'vening; and when, as he e asked per ion to call, his request was Гот was smitt with his typist and now | ler's home. Regular? To be sure quest . softly murmured “Yes” was home tha ight in the seventh ethereal s he walked along, a t ight plunged him back to exclaimed. “I’ve lost another stenog- FOND RECOLLECTIONS After years of study now, Our school day’s almost o’er, We view our four long years of work, And wish them back once more. As Freshmen first we started here, Determined to win all; 3ut soon the Seniors let us know, That we were mighty sm ll. Then next year, as great Sophomores, In knowledge did we revel ; Its mystic charm did lure us To climb to Wisdom's level. Our Junior year we entered next, As standards of the school ; Twas said in one more year we'd put 'The Faculty under rule. The Senior stand at last we took, And as mighty four A's, we Heard prophecies that came not true, But why? We could not see. But Teachers dear, we'll ne'er forget, 'l'he lessons you have taught, We trust the future may perfect The work your hands have wrought. When in the after years we think Of the happy days gone by ; We'll wish that we were back again In dear old Central High. HAROLD A. McDovGALL