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Show I Horning In By JEAN CAMERON McClure Syndicate WNU Features. WHEN the car came abreast ol the running girl in the trench coat the horn sounded raucously once, twice. She hesitated a moment, mo-ment, tugged her hat over her loose curls and jumped in. "So chemicals chemi-cals help drafting thank you," she said. The sandy-haired man behind the driver's seat looked at her gloomily. While her face was unfamiliar, he knew draftswomen had been employed em-ployed for some weeks now. "How far, Miss" "To the highway intersection, please. Kay Farnham. I'll be quiet," qui-et," she added, after another glance at the strong chin. "I know you're planning explanations for the Government Gov-ernment inspection committee tomorrow." to-morrow." The chin stiffened perceptibly. So the Government committee was coming, eh? The drive was a silent one. At the highway Donald crawled out and opened the door for his passenger. She smiled. "You're the first man to do that in two months, Mr. McAllister. And and I am highly flattered that you took me home." He did not realize that the girl remained standing in the street until his car vanished from night. She had noticed him in the halij and offices for some time. McAllister was angry, with a cold, calculated, frightening rage that had been developing for many weeks. Let Wilson run the chemical department depart-ment as he ran and bullied everyone every-one else all right, just so long as he kept out of McAllister's way; let him have the soundproof laboratory, priorities, assistants all right. He himself would work overtime, be underpaid, un-derpaid, refuse better offers all right. If this experiment succeeded if he could work it out and it was accepted, it would be worth all of Wilson's sneers. He'd have done his part. But the Government inspectors were coming tomorrow and not to test his model or his method! Well . . . his temper at a fine edge, he swung and headed back to the factory. fac-tory. In spite of his pugnacious look, his height and his square shoulders, there was a mildness about Donald something in the color of his hair, the blue of his eyes, his general absent-mindedness which led people Ao think him timid. He had never cared, for he believed in attending strictly to his own business. And I yet perhaps it was Cornelia's treat-, treat-, ment which had helped to produce tus present fury. Cornelia believed in Cornelia first, peace or war. She was soft, blonde,' helpless, appealing to big men. She demanded things and got them. And now that so many men were gone she had been concentrating on Donald Don-ald with excellent results. There was a quick hush as he entered en-tered the office, a bending of heads back to work. He glanced toward his desk; his lips tightened. "I thought I told you to stay out of my things, Wilson," he said slowly, striding over to his private corner. A beefy, self-confident man swung about. "I was looking for a pencil," he grinned, nonchalantly ignoring the fact that two projected from his breast pocket. Donald controlled himself with a conscious effort and closed the desk top. He felt rather than saw Wilson's foot moving the wastebasket into a tripping position behind him, and kicked backward so violently that the basket shot between be-tween his annoyer's legs and he fell headlong. He was up in an instant, furious, his fists lifted, but Donald's look lowered them. "Can't you take a joke, McAllister?" he asked feebly, realizing that his long domination of the office was crashing and that the story would sooa sweep the whole plant. "No," snapped Donald. He tramped across the room and slammed the sales manager's door behind him. "No, Mr. Bentley, you're not too busy to listen to me," he said, and poured out every demand de-mand he had formulated during his drive better instruments, additional addi-tional quarters, storage space, and full hearing before the committee. "I came here to work," he concluded. con-cluded. "If I can't do that here I'll go where I can. Pay Wilson what you want for making a general nuisance nui-sance of himself. Give him any title you like but let me do a good job!" "Of course," gasped the sales manager. man-ager. "Naturally. We thought you were quite satisfied, Mr. McAllister. We'll have a new contract for you in the morning. We . . ." Donald turned and left. . In the outer office a stenographer came up to him. "A lady has been calling," she reported. "Miss Cornelia Cor-nelia Adkins, she said." Donald did not pause. "Tell her I haven't come in." In the lab he pulled on his rubber gloves. He was quite calm now. He would get right at that new solvent. But first he pulled off the gloves, made a notation on his calendar "Take girl in drafting room to lunch after committee report tomorrow." Nice girl, he thought, arranging bottles carefully on the sink. He'd tell her no, women were funny. Better not tell her he hadn't meant to pick her up, that when he bent over to rescue his fountain pen from the floor of the car he had accidentally acci-dentally pressed the horn. |