"See here!" says he, growlin' it out grouchy, without lookin' up. "I'd like to have you run your eye over that, and then tell me where in thunder you learned to spell such s-u-t-c-h!"
"Why," says she, "I always spell it that way; don't you?"
"Don't I!" roars the old man. "Do you take me for a——"
Then he looks up. Well, say, you talk about your fadin' sunsets! Nothin' I ever see beat the way the boss lost his crushed raspb'rry face tint and bleached out salmon pink. "Why—why—er—are you sure this is some of your work, young woman?"
"Oh yes, indeed," says she, kind of gurgly and aristocratic and as sweet as pie, "that's mine. But you've made so many horrid marks on it that I shall have to do it all over again."
"Yes," says he, "I'm afraid that's so. But we have a way here, you know, of spelling explicit with a C instead of an S."
"Ruhlly?" says she. "How odd!"
"It's one of our fads, too," goes on the old man, "not to spell Corrugated g-a-i-t-e-d. We've simplified it by leaving out the I. Of course, we don't expect you to learn all these things at once; but pick 'em up as fast as you can. That—that's all. Thank you very much, Miss—er——What's the name?"
"Morgan," says she, "Mildred Morgan."
"Ah," says the boss, "very much obliged, Mil—er—Miss Morgan," and before I could get to the door he has hopped up and opened it for her.