? ST J The Sunday Bee r^\ r jL. 52—NO. 52. OMAHA, SUNDAY MORNING, JUNE 10, 1923. FIVE CENTS t k The Woman Hatev —t.tnnun t0 seek the so taught him the had expected his d to the manage rvative stockhold decided different I'll give you flve-thousand-a-year ability for $1$ a week. I'll guaran tee to make good in two weeks or you needn't pay me a cent.” "But why not put the facts be fore those stockholders?" "They can't be called together. Old Julius Templeton has gone to Italy. He won't be back for a year. Since he left two of the directors have died, and Hastings has gone to Asia for the Thorne Knitting Mills people Bird can’t be fired. The local stockholder* who are left are helpless. Besides, they don't realize how fatally Bird’s manage men: is affecting the company." “You've got stock in the com pany. haven't you?" _ _ II . ^'11 "lil.-r min had been lured 1 T from another concern to run I MIiulp company, though George P Iretained a place In the office. ■Sptr. Hod.” George said to the W'3>r, "I'd like to talk with you L^jkrivate. —I—well, the plaih fact H J want a job.” I The editor led the way Into his I ip u( y office. I KVhat's the matter that you're I jUng around a country newspaper I ,.e all of a sudden, hunting a F** | at country newspaper wages?'' • demnnded U fl ve left the pulp company be Jiuse I can’t stand it another day. I jl'nnt to start In here and forget I *ver knew anything about manu facturing. Give me a place, and you won’t regret It.” ^ How much money were you draw ing when Gates died?" "Five thousand a year." , "Gee whiz! How old are you?” “Twenty-nine." "Sonny." said the old editor kind ly, "you don’t want a newspaper job; you want a month in a sanita rium. A young man who's mastered the pulp business—or any business —so that he's worth 1100 a week at 29 in a little town like Paris, Is either a fool or a. sick man to con fess himself beaten, because a bone hea^ like Rlrd has temporarily se cured control.” Rut young Benedict only shook i his head. e "I've soured on the pulp busi ness. ' he returned doggedly. "Re side*. Itlrd was hired under con tract and put In down there by the « ekholders. They can't get rid of him until his contruet Is up. and. confidentially, that's going to Is* too Late to save the business No. . . is ■ job on this paper, and "I have—all my savings have gone Into It. But some people are going to lose thousands where I'm going to lose only hundreds." "What sort of work do you want to c^o around here?" "Advertising. I want to learn the business end of newspaper publish ing." There was no dissuading the chap. Before the session with Ham yvas over he had landed the job. On Monday morning of the week following George Benedict's affilia tion with the Telegraph a young woman opened the office at seven thirty. ran up the window shades and hung her hat on a hook along side the old green safe. Then she pinned on a pair of paper cuffs and started through g pile of correspon dence which has accumulated on her flat-topped desk during her absents?. She had been working but a few moments when the latch clicked and she raised her clear gray eyes to behold a young man. He nodded to her and passed through to Sam Hod's room as though he had a right In there. "Is there something I can do for you?" the girl asked. "I work here,” the inan replied. "You work here!" she gasped. "I'm Benedict—George Benedict. I'm looking after the advertising ” "But you’re the mnn who ran the pulp company!” "Well, what of It?" The girl gaped at him blankly "You're not going to buy the Telegraph?" she faltered. "No.” he laughed bitterly. "I'm here working for wages—like all the others.” "What'H the matter with you?'* the girl blurted. The young man winced. “I lost my place down at the pulp company. So I had to begin at the bottflm again somewhere else." June Farley had come to us from the high school over in North Fox boro. Her father still ran a little farm somewhere back in the Green mountains. As the days grew into weeks. June's Interest and sympathy* rip ened into a pathetic, onesided af fection, from which we older heads in the office believed no good could possibly come. All of this bored Benedict. He understand. I'm worried—more than anyone knows. It's—It's—the pulp company. You know the story of my experience there, don't you?” "Not wholly—at least I’ve never heard your side of the matter.” Benedict folded his paper. Almost before he was aware, he was acting the unwitting role of the dis couraged' and embittered boy, tell ing his troubles to a girl. She listened quietly, gravely, somehow, on that ride she ceased being the plodding little proofread "Then why not walk in and throw him out? He's only an employe, isn’t he? And you're a stockholder.” "Throw him out?” Benedict laughed harshly. "You mean figu ratively or literally?" “I mean literally. - That is, if ha refuses to resign and there's no al ternative.” "Do you know what would hap pen if I tried that?” "What?” "Why, Bird would — would — would—" "Well, what would he do’ If you CauAtAlf MiXL* / Thereupon the assembled office employes beheld Iheir late lord and master moving swiftly toward the outer door, a very capable, athletic young body supplying the power for his locomotion. was one of those chaps who mature early; a woman had cut her pound of flesh from his heart, and the wound had never healed. On Independence day. June Far ley went down to visit an aunt who lived In Rutland, and returned on the last train. The day coach was crow’ded. 8he wandered down the long aisle looking for a seat. The only place available in which she might ride in comfort buck to Paris was a half seat toward the forward enil of the car. The other half of that seat was occupied by George Benedict! "May I—share this seat with you?" she asked, flushing ns she recognized him. He nodded curtly. He had a newspaper and read It industriously. The train started and turned up through the cool, fragrant ravines of the Green mountains. "I take it you've been spending the day in Rutland also," she de clared in a pitiful attempt at con versation. "You." he answered, in a tone which implied that It couldn't pos sibly be any of her business. The girl was piqued—mightily. "You certainly do hate one of us with a terrific hatred, don't you?” she commented. ''I can't make out whether you hate me worse or— yourself.” “X—don't—hate—anybody,” he defended. Then what's the matter with you? You go about as If you’d lost votir Inst friend, and when other people would Is- friendly with you. you—slap them. I've worked In the same office with you for over a month now. And there's hardly l>eon a day when you haven't slap ped me. somehow, before It ended " He meditated on this ''I'll have to apologise to you, then,” Us said finally, "you don't er and office girl in a country news paper office up In Vermont. She was a very practical young lady, and her criticisms were construc tive and sympathetic. The train pulled into Paris before either was aware they had covered half the distance. They alighted, left the depot and walked side by side up through the streets in the hush of the summer night. "But why don't you make a fight’" she demanded as they sat for a time on the steps of the Whit ney house on Pine street where June boarded. "You're still a stockhold er, aren't you? And all that's standing in your way is the stub bornness of this man Bird " "Oh. you don't understand." he answered, lapsing at length Into his usual cynicism. "It takes money, slathers of it, to get control of enough stock to oust that contrary bonehead. And It'a superfluous to say that I haven't got It. I didn't even have enough to support myself ho I could wait around Paris for something to crnsh up there at the mill. A fat chance I've got of buy ing any controlling interest In the business " You nienn you re pennlies* "All my saving* went to pay for the stork Mr. Oates gave me the opportunity to huy. He thought all along that I was to succeed hint He trained me for It. and now I'm— I’m helpless.” "Does It really take money to do what you would like to do in the pulp company. Or does it take Just plain liraina and nerve?" "What do you mean?” he asked. "Iki you know how to run that business better than Mr Bird?" “Naturally. I think an " "That Isn't answering my ques tion Do you?" "Vua. ' e really are a better man than he is, couldn't you match him nerve tor nerve and move for move? Bird would have no one to whom to ap peal to back him up. And If you can't make good between now and the time the majority stockholder get back, can you ever do it?" "It isn't done." he declared. "No body ever heard of one lone stock holder walking In and ousting a corporation manager just because his fellow stockholders were absent " "I see," the girl remarked acidly. "You lack the nerve!" "I do not lack the nerve'" he re turned hotly. "Then why don't you do it? Wh it's stopping you?" "The law! Bird would have the law on me—wimchow." "But you have as much brains as Mint Dig up a few laws of your own." "That's caveman sniff!" he tried to explain. "We don't get the things we want by knocking our competi tors over the head with a club " "Don't we? I’ve been under the Impression that real men did— when they had sufficient provoca tion and all other expedients had been exhausted." This stung him to anger. "You're only a woman." he de dared contemptuously. "You're not supposed to understand " "And I'm reluctantly compelled lo believe that you're only a— toward. You're not supposed to understand, either." nenedlct arose stiffly. “So you're whipped as easily as that?" she mused. "Well, I can understand now why the stock holders elected another man to the position you expected " "If you were a man. Miss Farley, you'd apologise mighty quickly for that." The girl smiled sagely. "Indeed' If you're feeling so belli cose, why not try some of It on Mr. nird " Hhe had hurt him deeply. Hut she had meant to hurt him Intui tively she felt that he required ex actly such a Jolt. When he did not reply, merely stood there with hi* face averted, she arose and laid her hand upon his arm In quite another voice, she snid: “Please forgive me. I don't mean to be—cheap K very body says