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Authors: Grace Livingston Hill

BOOK: DUSKIN
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He swung himself onto a trolley car just as the door was about to close and stood by the door, ready to swing out again when his corner was reached. He couldn’t even spare time to sit down and rest between blocks.

A young girl got in the car in a blue dress that made him think of Carol. How pretty she had looked with that blue dress just the color of her eyes, pretty and sweet and womanly, till she stuck up her chin and began to try to be his boss.

A grim smile dawned on his lips. “The little boss,” he said to himself amusedly. She wasn’t meant to be that! She had a face like a Madonna! How many madonnas had the modern business world spoiled? And men, too, perhaps. How could a man work with a girl like that running around hindering? Of course she was smart and bright and all that. Doubtless a better businesswoman than many a man, but she was out of her place. He wasn’t exactly an old-fashioned man who wanted women to be clinging vines of course, nor to stick to nursing and housekeeping entirely. Women were bright and entirely capable of earning their own living, as capable as men when they had the same training. But the idea of sending this girl out on just her natural grit and expecting her to run an important job like this was suicidal. Probably the office lost its head when Fawcett was hurt and they let her come.

You could see she was brighter even than most men from the clever speech she made at the banquet, but, well, it must have gone to her head, this temporary little power, or else somebody had been feeding her a lot of rot to blind her eyes to truth.

He frowned as he swung himself off the car at his corner and strode up the steps of the new building, looking at his watch and flashing a glance at the cars parked on the other side of the street. It was three o’clock, and that fellow wasn’t here yet! Now, if he shouldn’t come at all he would have to waste more time hunting for him!

Two steps at a time, he flung himself up to the second floor to question Charlie, not the least look about him of a man who had just been badly fired.

Half an hour late the inspector was, and a sullen look on his face. Duskin found him disposed to quibble and find fault. But at every turn they balked him. Patiently they took up floorboards to prove that all was as it should be according to the ordinance; cheerfully they pulled him up to the eleventh floor in the lift to make sure that something else was all right which he professed to have forgotten to look at when he was up there the night before. At last, reluctantly, grouchily, he signed the papers, taking as long as possible. It was half past four before he was gone, and the carpenters had all gone, too.

“Now, Dusky, let’s get at them fixtures!” said Charlie with a gesture of relief. “Want I should slip down and bolt that there street door? Any danger of the lady boss arriving on the scene again?”

“No,” said Duskin, a slow grin coming on his lips, “no danger anymore. She’s fired me. That’s over, thank goodness.”

“Fired
you, has she? I’ll
bet
she has, Dusky! You
look
fired, you do. Never saw you look more bullheaded than you do this minute, not even under shell fire. I’ll say she’s fired you. Fired you up, I guess! Only you didn’t need it. If she asks me I’ll tell her a thing or two.”

“Keep your mouth shut,” said Duskin amusedly. “You’ll need your breath before we get through. All set?”

“All set.”

“Had any sleep?”

“Five hours, Dusky. I’ll bet it’s more than you’ve had in as many days.”

“On with the dance, then, Charlie. Top floor. I’d just as soon they didn’t get onto it that it’s so near done till we spring the whole show!”

“You’ve said it, Dusky. Hey there, Pete, Ted. Tell Bill to bring up the limousine from the garage.”

The lift squeaked its thunderous way up from the cellar and Bill appeared cheerily whistling. They crowded in, shoulder to shoulder, the boss and his brother workmen. The weary lines of Duskin’s face began to smooth out, and a look of peace and contentment to take their place.

“Now, Dusky,” said Charlie, springing out when they reached the top, “when you get this job up here laid out, you’re to go over in that there corner and lay down! See? I come up here while you and the crab-sided inspector was spouting off to one another, and I took the hay outta the fixtures’ boxes and stirred up a bed for ya. It ain’t no fancy Waldorf Astoria, but it’ll pass. And we agreed together that you’re to lay down an’ get some rest till we’re through up here, or we all quit on ya! Get me?”

“I get you!” said Duskin grinning with them. “All right, pile off, and we’ll lay out the idea.”

Carol was positively frightened when she came upon Schlessinger so unexpectedly. Being unstrung already from her interview with Duskin, she was hardly prepared to face another giant in her way. Schlessinger in his afternoon regalia looked every inch a mayor, the high gold bridge of his eyeglasses setting off the hawk nose to perfection. She had a wild, hysterical idea as she faced his elaborate bow of crying out with Red Ridinghood, “What makes you have such a long nose, Grandmother?” But instead she tried to control her trembling lips and look like the stern representative from New York.

“Miss Berkley, I’ve been looking for you for several hours. I wanted to ask you to take lunch with me. Sorry I have somehow missed you. I wonder if we can go somewhere and have a little talk at this time?”

Carol summoned a smile. “It will not be possible, Mr. Schlessinger. I have a very important matter to attend to at once. I am afraid I am late now. I can’t tell how long it will take me.”

“Now, that’s too bad,” he said, vexed, “because I have something quite important to say to you.”

“I can’t possibly wait,” said Carol fearfully, backing away from him. “I’m sorry to be rude, but you know business matters won’t wait. It’s a matter of long-distance calls.”

“I see,” said Schlessinger, his hawk eyes upon her.

“Well, I will walk with you to the elevator then and just say a word. I can’t ask you to take dinner with me tonight because I have a municipal dinner to attend that I can’t possibly get out of, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t enjoy that—a dull, stupid affair connected with a hospital—but I’ll arrange to see you tomorrow, say at lunchtime. I’ll come for you—at one o’clock, shall we say? And in the meantime, I just want to say this: I wouldn’t want you to do a thing about upsetting young Duskin on the job because of anything I said. He’s a well-meaning young man. It really would be useless anyway. Things are too far gone for that. The only thing you can do is to urge him to do his best. I have been troubled at what I said to you up in Chicago ever since. At least what Blintz said. He is so impulsive.”

Carol had put out a quick hand and signaled the elevator, and it blessedly arrived now.

“Indeed, Mr. Schlessinger, you needn’t be concerned at all about anything you said in Chicago. I am acting under orders from New York. I assure you that building is going to be done on time!”

Was she imagining it or did a spasm of anxiety flit over the fox face as she said that? She hastened on, “And about tomorrow, I’m afraid I can’t promise. I shall probably have another engagement for lunch. Thank you just the same.”

“Well, I’ll see you at one tomorrow, anyway, and we’ll arrange it,” insisted Schlessinger. “I hope you will find you can come then.”

In a frenzy of haste she stepped far within the elevator and was thankful when the operator slammed the door shut and the car began to move. As she glanced out through the grillwork she could see the old fox standing baffled for an instant, and then he turned and walked straight over to two people who sat on a couch across from the elevator. He nodded and seemed to motion toward the elevator. She caught a glimpse of a woman with white hair, a purple dress and hat, and big jeweled lorgnette sitting beside a young man who was reading a paper. Then she was taken swiftly up and promptly forgot all about it, thankful only that she had escaped as easily as she had. She would look out tomorrow that she did not encounter Schlessinger again and she would plan the day so full that she would have plenty of excuses at hand. But why had he said nice things about Duskin? It looked as though he really was afraid he would be dismissed. Were they then really in collusion?

Locked into her room, she put in a call for Frederick Fawcett in Chicago, but after a half hour of waiting she found he had gone to a house party out at some lake and would not be back until after the weekend. Succeeding at last in getting the house where he was a guest, she was told that he was off on a fishing expedition in the woods and would not return until sometime the next day. He was staying overnight at a cabin in the woods where there was no telephone.

Perplexed, she sat on her bed and watched the sunshine come in longer slants across the rug and furniture as the day waned. What should she do next?

In despair she called the Delaplaine number again and was rewarded by a man’s voice at last.

“Yes, this is Delaplaine. No, I didn’t get your message yet, haven’t seen anyone. I just got in. What’s that? A
job
? A new operation? When does it begin? Tomorrow? What? Oh, it’s almost done? Impossible! I never take over anyone else’s job. Couldn’t think of it. No! Besides, I’m off for a month in the mountains. Start tonight. Just finished a big operation myself. Wouldn’t take another for a million dollars until I’ve had some rest.”

Carol, at the other end of the wire, voiced her despair in such a plaintive tone that Delaplaine halted in his movement to hang up and listened to her plea.

“Tough luck!” he said. “But I couldn’t come in and pull up a thing at the last minute. Why didn’t you find it out before it was too late? Who’s your manager? What’s that? Duskin? Not
Phil
Duskin? Why, ma’am, what do you want me for then? You couldn’t find a finer manager in the country. What does he say about it? Does
he
want me? He isn’t sick or anything, is he? Because if Dusky was sick and needed me I’d give up a trip to Europe to help him. What’s that? You’ve
dismissed
him?
Him?
And he said he was going to get it done! Why my dear madam, don’t you know that if Philip Duskin says a thing will get done at a certain time it will be
done,
even if there isn’t a stone of the foundation laid the night before? Phil would lie down and
be
a foundation himself if it was necessary, but he’d get it done and maybe a minute and a half before the clock struck, too.
That’s Duskin!
No ma’am! If you people have been such darned fools as to dismiss Phil Duskin from your job you can go whistle for another man. I’ll make it hot for you from one end of the country to another, I can tell you, too! Your company will never be able to get
any
of us to work for you again if you treat a prince of a man like Dusky that way.
I’m done.
Good-bye!”

Carol sat trembling on her bed for a full two minutes. What had she done? What could she do now? She mustn’t let this go through. She had angered one of the best men in the country it seemed. What would Mr. Fawcett say when she got back? What would
all three
Fawcetts say? For Frederick Fawcett had made it quite plain that this Delaplaine was one of the best men to be had and that they were thinking of him for a big library they were to build soon. In fact, they had opened negotiations with him. Suppose this ended that? It would mean that she would lose her job, if she wasn’t able to apologize or in some way blot out the impression she had made. Oh! She must not let him go away angry that way. She must do something right away about it!

In a panic she seized the telephone again and asked in a strange little voice that was not in the least like her ordinary telephone voice at home if they would
please
give her that long-distance number again, that the number had hung up before she finished talking.

After five long minutes of anxiety the same strong, manly tones came over the line, a bit cross.

“Well?”

“This is Fawcett Construction Company. You didn’t understand me, quite; that is, I didn’t mean—that is—Mr. Duskin
isn’t
exactly dismissed—
permanently.

“Oh!” the voice was somewhat sardonic. “Not
permanently.
How’s that? Do you do it intermittently?”

Carol suppressed a desire to burst into hysterical giggles. What would they say in the New York office if they could hear their dependable, efficient, self-controlled secretary now? She had gone all to pieces.

“I beg your pardon,” said Carol quite humbly. “I’m sorry I gave you such an impression. I suppose it must have been all wrong what I said, but I’m carrying a very heavy burden of responsibility, and I want to do the best thing for the company. You see, Mr. Caleb Fawcett has met with an accident.”

A sudden sympathetic voice over the phone said, “Is that so? I hadn’t heard. That’s hard now, isn’t it? And you’re sent out there to look after things? Did he ask you to phone me?”

“No, I heard Mr. Frederick Fawcett of Chicago speaking of you in high terms and I thought perhaps you might help out in this job. You see, it means a great deal to the company to get done on time, and Mr. Fawcett’s been worried nearly to death. He’s had a lot of complaints from the people it’s being built for—”

“Oh, it’s that municipal job, isn’t it? I remember. They asked me to take it but I was full up. But you say you’ve got Duskin. Didn’t he have it at the start?”

“Yes, but there have been a lot of setbacks.”

“There are always a lot of setbacks, my friend, on any operation! Don’t let that worry you. Did Duskin say he needed help?”

“No-o-o,” admitted Carol sheepishly, feeling very small and ridiculous indeed, “but I thought—”

“Well, think again, my friend. You’ve got the best man I know on your job. When he wants my help he knows where to find me and he knows I’ll come hopping. But he also knows I won’t come before. And if he says it’ll get done you might just as well pack your suitcase and go back to New York. Don’t lose a drop of sleep on account of it. Duskin always puts a thing over! Good night! My train’s leaving in a few minutes. Wish you luck!”

The receiver hung up and Carol said her mortified thanks to the world at large or the telephone operators.

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