of
'em eatin' out of her hand.

But while I might feel a little sympathetic toward this stray from the
kerosene circuit I didn't let it go so far but what I kicked like a
steer when I finds that Piddle has wished her on me for a big forenoon's
work.

"What's the idea, Piddie?" says I. "Why do I get one of your awkward
squad who'll probably spell 'such' with a t in it and punctuate by the
hit-or-miss method?"

"Miss Joyce?" says he, raisin' his eyebrows, pained. "I beg your pardon,
Torchy, but she is one of our most efficient stenographers. Really!"

"She don't look the part," says I. "But if you say she is I'll take a
chance."

Well, she was all he'd described. She could not only scribble down that
Pitman stuff as fast as I could feed the dictation to her, but she could
read it straight afterward and the letters she turns out are a joy to
look over. From then on I picks her to do all my work, being careful not
to let either Mr. Robert or Old Hickory know what an expert I've
discovered in disguise.

For one thing she's such a quiet, inoffensive little party. She don't
come in all scented with Peau d'Espagne, nor she don't stare at you
bored, or pat her hair or polish her nails while you're waitin' to think
of the right word. She don't seem to demand the usual chat or fish for
an openin' to confide what a swell time she had last night. In fact, she
don't make any remarks at all outside of the job in hand, which is some
relief when you're scratchin' your head to think what to tell the
assistant Western manager about renewin' them dockage contracts.

Yet she ain't one of the scared-mouse kind. She looks you square in the
eye when there's any call for it and she don't mumble her remarks when
she has something to say. Not Miss Joyce. Her words come out clear and
crisp, with a slight roll to the r's and all the final letters sounded,
like she'd been taking elocution or something.

In the course of five or six weeks she has shed the blue tam for a neat
little hat and has ditched the puckered seam effect dress for a black
office costume with white collar and cuffs. She still sticks to partin'
her hair in the middle and drawin' it back smooth with no ear tabs or
waves to it. So she does look some old-fashioned.

That was why I'm kind of surprised to notice this Lester Biggs begin
hoverin' around her at lunch time and toward the closin' hour. She ain't
the type Lester usually picks out to roll his eyes at. Not in the le