If this was her mood, when sustained by the cheerful companionship of
Peggy, it was worse after they had said good night. Mrs. Marshall had
received the news of her daughter’s prospective advent into business
life with a burst of tears, after which she had refused to partake of
the evening meal and had retired to her room. Elaine, herself, had
choked down her food with difficulty, and went to bed at last with the
firm conviction that dreams of the night, however unpleasant, could be
no worse than the nightmare of her waking hours. She was not quite
clear as to whether she had already disgraced the family name by the
work she had chosen, or merely was about to disgrace it, by proving her
woeful inefficiency. Whichever was true, she could see nothing but
blackness ahead, and as she tossed on her pillow, flushed and wakeful,
she wished though vainly for the relief of tears.
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*A REMARKABLE EVENING*
A wakeful restless night is not the best of preparations for launching
out in untried activities. The pale, tremulous Elaine, who presented
herself at Mr. John Mannering’s office the next morning, was far less
equal to the ordeal of being "sized up" than she had been the previous
day. A soldier, on the eve of his first battle, may have sensations
very like those of Elaine, as she seated herself at the desk and began
her unfamiliar work.
Time in a business office is a deliberate affair, Elaine soon
discovered. It was no wonder that much was accomplished when the hours
were two or three times as long as the easy-going hours with which she
was best acquainted. At ten o’clock she was impatient for luncheon. At
eleven she wanted to go home. By noon she was ready for bed.
The other girl in the office gave her information in more or less
technical terms, which left Elaine little the wiser. It was incredible
that she could ever master the meaning of the phrases Miss Newell
rattled off so glibly. Each new item, as she gave it her attention,
crowded out all that had gone before. She felt like a spent swimmer,
clutching desperately at slippery, water-soaked stalks, to find each
giving way in her hand. And when Miss Newell had finished Elaine was
gasping, like a swimmer who has come to the surface after going under.
The middle of the afternoon found her tired, bewildered and so near to
complete disheartenment that it needed only a feather’s weight addition
to her load to wreck her weakened courage. As ill luck would have it,
that trifling extra was forthcoming. About three o’clock the office
door swung ajar to admit a florid gentleman, accompanied by two young
girls. Elaine, recalling Miss Newell’s instructions, rose hastily and
approached them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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