The Romance of a Busy Broker Essay Sample

Pitcher. confidential clerk in the office of Harvey Maxwell. agent. allowed a expression of mild involvement and surprise to see his normally deadpan visage when his employer briskly entered at half past nine in company with his immature lady amanuensis. With a snappish “Good-morning. Pitcher. ” Maxwell dashed at his desk as though he were meaning to jump over it. and so plunged into the great pile of letters and wires waiting at that place for him. The immature lady had been Maxwell’s amanuensis for a twelvemonth. She was beautiful in a manner that was unquestionably unstenographic. She forewent the gaudery of the tempting Pompadour. She wore no ironss. watchbands or lockets. She had non the air of being about to accept an invitation to luncheon. Her frock was gray and field. but it fitted her figure with fidelity and discretion. In her orderly black turban chapeau was the gold-green wing of a macaw. On this forenoon she was quietly and shyly radiant. Her eyes were moonily bright. her cheeks echt peachblow. her look a happy 1. tinged with reminiscence. Pitcher. still mildly funny. noticed a difference in her ways this forenoon. Alternatively of traveling directly into the adjoining room. where her desk was. she lingered. somewhat irresolute. in the outer office. Once she moved over by Maxwell’s desk. near adequate for him to be cognizant of her presence.

The machine sitting at that desk was no longer a adult male ; it was a busy New York agent. moved by bombinating wheels and uncoiling springs. “Well–what is it? Anything? ” asked Maxwell aggressively. His opened mail ballad like a bank of phase snow on his crowded desk. His acute Grey oculus. impersonal and brusque. flashed upon her half impatiently. “Nothing. ” answered the amanuensis. traveling off with a small smiling. “Mr. Pitcher. ” she said to the confidential clerk. did Mr. Maxwell say anything yesterday about prosecuting another amanuensis? ” “He did. ” answered Pitcher. “He told me to acquire another one. I notified the bureau yesterday afternoon to direct over a few samples this forenoon. It’s 9. 45 o’clock. and non a individual image hat or piece of pineapple masticating gum has showed up yet. ” “I will make the work every bit usual. so. ” said the immature lady. “until some one comes to make full the topographic point. ” And she went to her desk at one time and hung the black turban chapeau with the gold-green macaw wing in its accustomed topographic point. He who has been denied the spectacle of a busy Manhattan agent during a haste of concern is handicapped for the profession of anthropology.

The poet sings of the “crowded hr of glorious life. ” The broker’s hr is non merely crowded. but the proceedingss and seconds are hanging to all the straps and packing both forepart and rear platforms. And this twenty-four hours was Harvey Maxwell’s busy twenty-four hours. The heart began to stagger out spasmodically its spasmodic spirals of tape. the desk telephone had a chronic onslaught of bombinating. Work force began to mob into the office and call at him over the railing. jovially. aggressively. brutally. excitedly. Messenger boys ran in and out with messages and wires. The clerks in the office jumped about like crewmans during a storm. Even Pitcher’s face relaxed into something resembling life. On the Exchange there were hurricanes and landslides and blizzards and glaciers and vents. and those elemental perturbations were reproduced in illumination in the broker’s offices. Maxwell shoved his chair against the wall and transacted concern after the mode of a toe terpsichorean.

He jumped from heart to ‘phone. from desk to door with the trained legerity of a harlequin. In the thick of this turning and of import emphasis the agent became all of a sudden cognizant of a high-rolled periphery of aureate hair under a cernuous canopy of velvet and ostrich tips. an imitation sealskin sack and a twine of beads every bit big as hickory nuts. stoping near the floor with a silver bosom. There was a collected immature lady connected with these accoutrements ; and Pitcher was at that place to interpret her. “Lady from the Stenographer’s Agency to see about the place. ” said Pitcher. Maxwell turned half around. with his custodies full of documents and heart tape. “What place? ” he asked. with a scowl.

“Position of amanuensis. ” said Pitcher. “You told me yesterday to name them up and hold one sent over this forenoon. ” “You are losing your head. Pitcher. ” said Maxwell. “Why should I hold given you any such instructions? Miss Leslie has given perfect satisfaction during the twelvemonth she has been here. The topographic point is hers every bit long as she chooses to retain it. There’s no topographic point open here. dame. Revoke that order with the bureau. Pitcher. and don’t bring any more of ’em in here. ” The silver bosom left the office. vacillation and slaming itself independently against the office furniture as it indignantly departed. Pitcher seized a minute to note to the bookkeeper that the “old man” seemed to acquire more absent-minded and unretentive every twenty-four hours of the universe. The haste and gait of concern grew fiercer and faster. On the floor they were thumping half a twelve stocks in which Maxwell’s clients were heavy investors. Orders to purchase and sell were coming and traveling every bit Swift as the flight of sups. Some of his ain retentions were imperilled. and the adult male was working like some high-geared. delicate. strong machine–strung to full tenseness. traveling at full velocity. accurate. ne’er wavering. with the proper word and determination and move ready and prompt as clockwork. Stockss and bonds. loans and mortgages. borders and securities–here was a universe of finance. and there was no room in it for the human universe or the universe of nature.

When the tiffin hr drew near there came a little letup in the tumult. Maxwell stood by his desk with his custodies full of wires and memorandums. with a fountain pen over his right ear and his hair hanging in disorderly strings over his brow. His window was unfastened. for the darling janitress Spring had turned on a small heat through the waking registries of the Earth. And through the window came a wandering–perhaps a lost–odour–a delicate. sweet odour of lilac that fixed the agent for a minute immoveable. For this smell belonged to Miss Leslie ; it was her ain. and hers merely. The odour brought her vividly. about tangibly before him. The universe of finance dwindled all of a sudden to a pinpoint. And she was in the following room–twenty steps off. “By George. I’ll do it now. ” said Maxwell. half aloud. “I’ll ask her now. I wonder I didn’t make it long ago. ” He dashed into the interior office with the hastiness of a short seeking to cover. He charged upon the desk of the amanuensis. She looked up at him with a smiling. A soft pink crept over her cheek. and her eyes were sort and Frank. Maxwell leaned one cubitus on her desk. He still clutched fliting documents with both custodies and the pen was above his ear. “Miss Leslie. ” he began hastily. “I have but a minute to save. I want to state something in that minute.

Will you he my married woman? I haven’t had clip to do love to you in the ordinary manner. but I truly do love you. Talk speedy. please–those chaps are clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific. ” “Oh. what are you speaking about? ” exclaimed the immature lady. She rose to her pess and gazed upon him. round-eyed. “Don’t you understand? ” said Maxwell. restively. “I want you to get married me. I love you. Miss Leslie. I wanted to state you. and I snatched a minute when things had slackened up a spot. They’re naming me for the ‘phone now. Tell ’em to wait a minute. Pitcher. Won’t you. Miss Leslie? ” The amanuensis acted really strangely. At first she seemed overcome with astonishment ; so tears flowed from her inquiring eyes ; and so she smiled pleasantly through them. and one of her weaponries slid tenderly about the broker’s cervix. “I know now. ” she said. quietly. “It’s this old concern that has driven everything else out of your caput for the clip. I was frightened at first. Don’t you remember. Harvey? We were married last eventide at 8 o’clock in the Small Church Around the Corner. ”

Reginald`s Christmas revel They say ( said Reginald ) that there’s nil sadder than triumph except licking. If you’ve of all time stayed with dull people during what is alleged to be the gay season. you can likely revise that stating. I shall ne’er bury seting in a Christmas at the Babwolds’ . Mrs. Babwold is some relation of my father’s–a kind of to-be-left-till- called-for cousin–and that was considered sufficient ground for my holding to accept her invitation at about the 6th clip of inquiring ; though why the wickednesss of the male parent should be visited by the children–you won’t happen any notepaper in that drawer ; that’s where I keep old bill of fare and first-night programmes. Mrs. Babwold wears a instead grave personality. and has ne’er been known to smile. even when stating disagreeable things to her friends or doing out the Stores list. She takes her pleasances unhappily. A province elephant at a Durbar gives one a really similar feeling. Her hubby gardens in all conditionss. When a adult male goes out in the pouring rain to brush caterpillars off rose-trees. I by and large conceive of his life indoors leaves something to be desired ; anyhow. it must be really unsettling for the caterpillars.

Of class there were other people at that place. There was a Major Person who had shot things in Lapland. or someplace of that kind ; I forget what they were. but it wasn’t for privation of reminding. We had them cold with every repast about. and he was continually giving us inside informations of what they measured from tip to tip. as though he thought we were traveling to do them warm under-things for the winter. I used to listen to him with a ecstatic attending that I thought instead suited me. and so one twenty-four hours I rather modestly gave the dimensions of an Okapia johnstoni I had shot in the Lincolnshire fens. The Major turned a beautiful Tyrian vermilion ( I remember believing at the clip that I should wish my bathroom hung in that coloring material ) . and I think that at that minute he about found it in his bosom to dislike me. Mrs. Babwold put on a first-aid-to-the-injured look. and asked him why he didn’t print a book of his sporting reminiscences ; it would be so interesting. She didn’t retrieve boulder clay afterwards that he had given her two fat volumes on the topic. with his portrayal and autograph as a frontispiece and an appendix on the wonts of the Arctic mussel. It was in the eventide that we cast aside the attentions and distractions of the twenty-four hours and truly lived. Card games were thought to be excessively frivolous and empty a manner of go throughing the clip. so most of them played what they called a book game.

You went out into the hall–to acquire an inspiration. I suppose–then you came in once more with a silencer tied round your cervix and looked silly. and the others were supposed to think that you were “Wee MacGreegor. ” I held out against the senselessness every bit long as I decently could. but at last. in a oversight of good-nature. I consented to masquerade as a book. merely I warned them that it would take some clip to transport out. They waited for the best portion of 40 proceedingss. while I went and played wineglass ninepinss with the page-boy in the larder ; you play it with a bubbly cork. you know. and the 1 who knocks down the most spectacless without interrupting them wins. I won. with four unbroken out of seven ; I think William suffered from over- anxiety. They were instead huffy in the drawing-room at my non holding come back. and they weren’t a spot pacified when I told them afterwards that I was “At the terminal of the transition. ” “I ne’er did like Kipling. ” was Mrs. Babwold’s remark. when the state of affairs dawned upon her. “I couldn’t see anything clever in Earthworms out of Tuscany–or is that by Darwin? ” Of class these games are really educational. but. personally. I prefer span.

On Christmas eventide we were supposed to be specially gay in the Old English manner. The hall was dreadfully drafty. but it seemed to be the proper topographic point to delight in. and it was decorated with Nipponese fans and Chinese lanterns. which gave it a really Old English consequence. A immature lady with a confidential voice favoured us with a long recitation about a small miss who died or did something every bit hackneyed. and so the Major gave us a in writing history of a battle he had with a hurt bear. I in private wished that the bears would win sometimes on these occasions ; at least they wouldn’t travel vapouring about it afterwards. Before we had clip to retrieve our liquors. we were indulged with some thought-reading by a immature adult male whom one knew instinctively had a good female parent and an apathetic tailor–the kind of immature adult male who talks unflaggingly through the thickest soup. and smooths his hair questionably as though he thought it might hit back. The thought-reading was instead a success ; he announced that the hostess was believing about poesy. and she admitted that her head was brooding on one of Austin’s odes. Which was near adequate.

I fancy she had been truly inquiring whether a scrag-end of mouton and some cold plum-pudding would make for the kitchen dinner following twenty-four hours. As a crowning dissipation. they all sat down to play progressive halma. with milk-chocolate for awards. I’ve been carefully brought up. and I don’t like to play games of accomplishment for milk-chocolate. so I invented a concern and retired from the scene. I had been preceded a few proceedingss before by Miss Langshan-Smith. a instead formidable lady. who ever got up at some uncomfortable hr in the forenoon. and gave you the feeling that she had been in communicating with most of the European Governments before breakfast. There was a paper pinned on her door with a signed petition that she might be called peculiarly early on the morrow. Such an chance does non come twice in a life-time.

I covered up everything except the signature with another notice. to the consequence that before these words should run into the oculus she would hold ended a misspent life. was regretful for the problem she was giving. and would wish a military funeral. A few proceedingss subsequently I violently exploded an air- filled paper bag on the landing. and gave a phase groan that could hold been heard in the basements. Then I pursued my original purpose and went to bed. The noise those people made in coercing unfastened the good lady’s door was positively indelicate ; she resisted chivalrously. but I believe they searched her for slugs for about a one-fourth of an hr. as if she had been an historic battleground. I hate going on Boxing Day. but one must on occasion make things that one dislikes.