A Knight on Wheels Part 29

Miss Jennings sat patiently waiting.

"I know that bit," she intimated gently.

Philip apologised, and continued hurriedly:--

"_Dear Sir_--No, I expect you know that bit, too."

"That bit's all right," said Miss Jennings calmly. "I wasn't to know who you were writing to. It might have been your wife."

Philip, who had not hitherto realised that it was possible for a man to correspond with the wife of his bosom by means of a machine operated by a third party, apologised again, and added quite gratuitously that he was not married.

Miss Jennings, having secured the information she required, smiled forgivingly, and the dictation proceeded.

_We are in receipt of your letter of October the fourteenth._

"They usually say 'esteemed communication,'" said Miss Jennings.

"Thank you," said Philip humbly. "Please correct it." Miss Jennings did so. Philip, regarding the curving neck and prettily coiled hair close beside him, found himself wondering why such a beautiful thing as a young girl should be compelled to work for a living.

Miss Jennings looked up, and caught his eye.

"Well?" she enquired shortly.

Philip coloured guiltily, and continued:--

_The cylinders you mention are cast in pairs, and their internal diameter is one hundred millimetres, or_--

He paused again. It seemed to him monstrous that a woman should be compelled to waste her youth taking down dry technical stuff like this, when she ought to be outside in the suns.h.i.+ne. If a woman must earn her bread, at least let her do work that was woman's work and not man's leavings. Her real mission, of course, should be to stand apart from the struggle for existence, rendering first aid to her man when he was stricken and companions.h.i.+p when he was weary. But to sit--

Miss Jennings looked up again.

"We can go faster than this," she observed severely. "I'm a trained stenographer."

Philip, collecting himself, dictated an elaborate formula for ascertaining the indicated horse-power of the engine under discussion, at a pace which caused the trained stenographer to pant for breath.

When he had finished, he said:--

"There are two more letters to do, Miss Jennings, but perhaps you would like to rest for a moment."

"No, thank you," said Miss Jennings. "I'm not made of sugar."

Possibly this statement was made--as many feminine statements of the kind are made--in order to be contradicted. More probably it was intended as a test of character. Whatever it was, it failed to intrigue Philip.

"Very well, then," he said, and proceeded to dictate another letter.

"Of course I see how it is, Mr. Meldrum," said Miss Jennings, unbending a little as their joint task came to an end. "You have not been accustomed to working with a woman, and you think she can't work the same as a man. You'll soon find out your mistake. She works twice as hard, and makes less fuss about it."

"I am sure she does," said Philip meekly.

"It's kind of you," proceeded Miss Jennings maternally, "to consider my feelings; but we shall get through a great deal more work if you look on me simply as a machine."

"I do not think that would be possible," said Philip. "I could not do my own work properly if I thought you were not comfortable."

For a moment Miss Jennings eyed her employer keenly.

"Well, try, anyway," she urged. Experience had taught her to beware of gentlemen who were too solicitous about her comfort, and she had not yet taken Philip's complete measure. "I've been earning my living for five years now--ever since I was sixteen," she added carelessly--"and I have found that we do our work better and are much more friendly and comfortable when the gentleman I am working for doesn't worry too much about whether I want a cus.h.i.+on for my back, and that sort of thing."

"I see you are an independent lady," said Philip, smiling.

"Independent? Yes, that's me," agreed Miss Jennings. "You wouldn't take me for a Suffragette, though, would you?" she added, with a tinge of anxiety in her voice.

"I don't think I have ever met one."

"Well, go to one of their meetings--the Park on Sunday, or somewhere--and you won't want to meet one twice. What they're to gain by it all beats me, let alone the show they make of themselves. A woman has enough trouble coming to her in life, without going out in a procession and asking for it. That's how I look at it. Well, I'll go and type these letters."

Miss Jennings's presence gradually ceased to affect Philip's powers of concentration, and he soon dropped into the habit of regarding her as she had asked to be regarded,--namely, as part of the office furniture,--though he persisted in certain small acts of consideration not usually offered to articles of upholstery. Miss Jennings, finding that her defensive att.i.tude was entirely unnecessary, promptly set out with the perversity of her s.e.x--or perhaps quite unconsciously--to stimulate her employer's interest in her. It was a pleasant and quite innocuous diversion, for Philip was usually far too busy to take notice of her little coquetries, and had far too much regard for the sanct.i.ty of the unprotected female to respond to them if he did.

He had grown so accustomed to regarding his typist as a mechanical adjunct to the office typewriter that he suffered a mild shock when one day Miss Jennings remarked:--

"So Mr. Atherton's gone? Well, he was no more use than nothing in the office, but he wasn't a bad sort--not if you took him the right way and kept him in his place."

"He was a friend of yours, then?" said Philip.

"Well, he used to take me out sometimes."

"Where to?"

"Oh, the White City, or a theatre. It's a nice change to be taken out by a gentleman sometimes. When you go by yourself with your sister,"

explained Miss Jennings, "you go in the pit. When any one like Mr.

Atherton took me it was reserved seats and dinner somewhere first. I love the theatre. Don't you?"

"I don't go very often," confessed Philip.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it is because I have no one to go with."

Miss Jennings collected her papers and rose.

"Well, I must finish these," she said. "Will there be anything more this morning, Mr. Meldrum?"

"Thank you, that is all."

Philip surveyed the retreating form of Miss Jennings with thoughtful eyes, and his heart smote him. By evicting the incapable Mr. Atherton he had deprived this plucky, chirpy little city sparrow of one of her most cherished recreations.

"Oh--Miss Jennings," he said nervously.

Miss Jennings turned.