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Show "Yes. I'm free this afternoon.' "Got a date then," Jimmy Improvised. Im-provised. "Have to dictate at lunch. Mind going to Mike's place around the corner?" He hoped she wouldn't cave In and have to be carried. Eut she made it and dropped in a chair with a sigh that sounded contented. Jimmy Jim-my mumbled something about phoning phon-ing and hunted up Mike himself. Jimmy knew the answers for too much food and drink. But how did they treat a gal all out of practice? And not let her know It? He told Mike all. "You start her easy, Mr. Wheeler. Leave It to me." Jimmy returned to their table as Mike brought cups of golden bouillon. bouil-lon. "Won't you try our new special on the house?" Mike invited. "Shall I fix up a nice little lunch as usual, Mr. Wheeler?" Jimmy deferred to Miss Bond. She was already sipping her bouillon bouil-lon blissfully. "Aren't bumps fun iu Iuok bai.k on!" she laughed. She could laugh at bumps only one meal and a couple of bucks away! She'd walk out of his life and begin starving again. Jimmy al-mightily al-mightily didn't want her to starve. Jimmy aimightily didn't want her to walk out of his life. How could he help it? The query fuddled his bogus letters to theoretical publicity prospects pros-pects as Betty pot-hooked them like a streak on paper Mike furnished. She had to tinker his sentences. Suddenly a thought popped up like an unexpected check. Why not really mail those letters? He might land free lance work and keep on using Betty! "Look here," he said. "How about a regular job, if we're satisfied after swapping references? My office is under my hat yet, but I'll find a cubby-hole." Betty's former employer told him over the phone she was as good as Jimmy thought, lost her job only be- I , . J 4 FICTION ComP,ex CORNER. GARRET ; i j j ' . SMITH ! i T)Y NOON forlorn hopers in the -1 ' employment manager's anteroom ante-room at Cromby & Co. boiled down to Jimmy Wheeler and the "Plucked Chicken." They had simmered since nine, waiting to be hired or to hear, "We'll file your application and let you know If anything turns up." Jimmy put the first of these chances at less than hundred-to-one shots. Odds had reversed on him since that independence day two weeks ago when his ex-boss had spoken overwarmly and Jimmy's free soul chased Jimmy off the payroll. As for the Plucked Chicken, Jimmy Jim-my considered the Old Run-around formula a sure thing. He hadn't given her a second look for fear he'd feel sorry for her. No name to put to a maid In distress, the formerly chivalrous Jimmy admitted guiltily. But he'd seen too many such lately. He'd soured on the sex anyhow since his boss's secretary lied herself her-self out of a Jam and him Into one after he'd stood up for her. "That chivalry complex of yours is a nuisance!" nui-sance!" the boss had roared. Old Fletcher needn't worry. Jimmy agreed with him now. The assistant manager gave Jimmy Jim-my a blank to fill and turned to the Plucked Chicken. Elizabeth Bond was her name actually. Someone's private secretary once, would grab a typist Job now. "We have a long waiting list. I'm afraid it isn't worth while calling again" was all she drew. Not even the Old Run-around I Jimmy handed In his blank. "Thanks," said the assistant "We'll file your application " " And let me know If anything turns up," Jimmy finished. He wondered won-dered how many such days his hundred-buck reserve would stand, as he followed Miss Bond's wake. The girl was waiting for the elevator, ele-vator, a fragile arm braced against the wall. The dim light here softened the cheek-bone, hid worry-lines worry-lines and ash-grey bleakness. Why she was class, a beauty once, before be-fore she began starving to death! The elevator came and she swayed toward It, would have fallen if Jimmy hadn't caught her. "Thank you. I'm clumsy!" Her face lit and Jimmy looked into deep violet eyes. Then face and eyes went dead again. She'd keel over on the street, he worried. No breakfast probably. He must do something quick. At the street door Jimmy clutched the germ of an Idea. "Pardon me. Aren't you Miss Bond in Cromby's Just now? They said you might do a letter or so for me. I'm James Wheeler. Publicity man. With the Fletcher bureau once. Cromby had another good typist typ-ist on their list but couldn't reach her. Leaves me in a jam." Her eyes widened warily then turned eager. "She swayed and would have fallen if Jimmy hadn't caught her." "I've a feeling anything here'll be good," she agreed and set down her empty cup. "I'm a pig! Just couldn't help it," she added wistfully, wist-fully, with a blush. Jimmy grinned. "Won't have stenographers ste-nographers who aren't good feeders." feed-ers." She laughed. Jimmy heard silver beDs. Her bouillon worked fast. Violet Vio-let eyes stayed alive now. Jimmy would like to spend a week feeding this girl. He had learned she was called "Betty." Jimmy thought "Betty" was his favorite name. By the time Mike brought second aid, he had her talking. He liked it. No whining. She was alone and on her own like himself, flotsam and jetsam jet-sam from small towns. Jimmy told job-hunting yarns, too; made them light, set them in a remotish past. She loved the one about the boss's secretary who balled up her letters which Jimmy corrected until a prize bull slipped by and the boss got wise. "And I was the one the boss bawled out," Jimmy added. "Called it my fault for coddling the girl and spoiling her." That was while they sipped demi-tasses. cause the company failed. Jimmy persuaded her to take expense money and a week's salary in advance, by pretending he'd be away on business most of the week. Betty had a feeling this was all the reference she needed from him. Jimmy didn't argue. Old Fletcher might say something sour if Jimmy referred her to his ex-boss. But, at parting, qualms began to wriggle around in Jimmy. "Look here," he said. "If you get a chance at a better job, take it!" "I've a feeling you may back out If I don't run," said Betty. AFTER Betty ran, everything went greyish. The impossible didn't seem as possible. It seemed plain impossible later, after long hours of hammering at his best prospects. pros-pects. The only spark he struck v.as "Come and see us after business picks up." By five Jimmy hit bottom. bot-tom. He started home deciding he'd just tear up those letters Betty had agreed to send over by messenger. But the letters weren't there, the hall man reported. Jimmy thought that over, feeling as if somebody had kicked him. Stung again! Neat little lit-tle game! That reference he called up, a plant, of course. He ought to have seen she came out of her dumps a little too fast! He was a fine judge of women! Jimmy's phone was ringing as he stumbled into his apartment. "Mr. Wheeler?" a remote voice said. "This is Mr. A. B. Fletcher's secretary. secre-tary. Could you see Mr. Fletcher here tomorrow morning? He didn't tell me to call you but he spoke about you today. Said he'd hoped you'd be over your grouch and back on your old job before this. I'm just tipping you off." "WeD!" Jimmy exploded. "Unsay "Un-say you're not Miss Moseley?" "Mr. Fletcher's old secretary? No. She's left him. I got a feeling from things I heard at luncheon today to-day there might be a vacancy where you said you used to work. And I got a feeling you'd be relieved if I found another job. I bought bargain bar-gain clothes and tried it." The voice trailed off in silver bells that could not be disguised. Jimmy was beyond speech. "Please don't be mad, Mr. Wheeler. You saved my life. I'll pay back your money." "The devil with the money I" Jimmy Jim-my suddenly felt all right. "I'll be around if you think Fletcher will have the fatted calf ready and you'll have luncheon with me." "Maybe we'll have Mike cook the fatted calf," said Betty. |