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Show I Typewriter Doctor I By RUBY DOUGLAS ( by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) (WXU Service) THE cashier of the Brookville bank looked up from his desk as Sylvia, his competent little stenographer, entered en-tered his office humming gayly. "Why the mirth on Monday morning. morn-ing. Miss Sylvia?" he asked. "The old, old reason Joy in having created something !" she told him. "Tell me let me be joyful, too," persisted the cashier. He had known Sylvia since her childhood. Theirs was a friendly, family acquaintance as well as a business association. "I will but you won't like it," Sylvia laughed. "Oh conceived the Idea of getting married, I suppose." Sylvia raised her hands In protest. "Not at all. But the effect on you will be Just the same. I am going into business for myself." The cashier listened while the girl unfolded her plan. The idea had come to her on Saturday morning like a flash of lightning from the unknown spaces. She had recognized it at once as an inspiration, and all through the week-end she had been turning it over In her mind until now It was a concrete con-crete plan all formulated and ready to put into action. "Then you'll be a typewriter doctor, I gather," said the cashier when she had finished her outline. "Yes that's an attractive way to call it. There Is no one in town who can mend a machine. You know yourself your-self what a nuisance It is when the typewriters here in the office are out of order. We have to send to the city and not only pay the man's expenses but wait till he finds It convenient." "Oh, I think you have hit upon a splendid Idea. I of course we hate to lose you, but we can't expect a girl with your ability and ambition to go on working for some one else at perhaps per-haps twenty dollars a week. Go to it, Miss Sylvia, and we will give you all the support we can." Thus Sylvia severed her connections connec-tions with the Brookville bank but she took with her all the good will of the officers and employees who, one and all, promised to help her to get launched in her new venture. She found a diminutive office on the main street and called herself a "Typewriter Doctor." She had a native na-tive mechanical sense and more than a little practical business ability. It was not long before Sylvia was very busy, and she had found it necessary nec-essary to make a few trips to the city In order to learn from the makers of various machines a number of intricate in-tricate little peculiarities of their own typewriters. But she was quick and determined to succeed. Nothing seemed too difficult She was happy and busy and she was experiencing the thrill that comes with achievement. achieve-ment. One morning a young man appeared in her office. "Good morning," she said cheerily. The visitor explained that he was a writer and that he lived on a farm outside the limits of the city. His typewriter had become very badly In need of parts and repairs while he was in the middle of some work for a weekly publication. He asked whether wheth-er he might bring in his machine and perhaps rent one for a few days. That was his problem. Sylvia assured him that that was her work, and she had several machines ma-chines on hand that she could let him choose from. For by this time she had not only gone into the business of renting typewriters but she had acquired ac-quired the agency of a neat little portable port-able machine and was making handsome hand-some commissions on this. If the young woman recognized another an-other finger of fate pointing the way to her pathway she did not admit it. She confessed to herself that she was glad Mr. Bob Saunders would have to return for his machine. She liked him. In a day or two, Bob Saunders appeared ap-peared again. He was buoyantly happy. "You are a mascot as well as a good typewriter doctor, Miss Bates," he said. "How do you know?" asked Sylvia, for his machine was not ready. "I have sold the story I wrote on the rented machine for more than a third again of what I have ever received re-ceived before from the same people," he told her enthusiastically. "Now I can well afford to get the parts." I He remained in the little office longer than was necessary, but Sylvia kept on working. He was lost In ad: miration of the deft, easy way in which she went about mending this machine, adjusting that one, cleaning another. It became a habit watching her. "Could you perhaps doctor the heart of typewriting man, Miss Sylvia?" Syl-via?" he asked her one day after many weeks. "I might, If It needed It," admitted admit-ted Sylvia. "I think If you would we we could make a success together." Bob wrote better than he talked. But Sylvia managed to understand. And her response was all that he had hoped for. "And, besides, the doctor needs a partner," she told him afterwards. |
