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A Record Romance
(Essanay)
By ALLEN STANHOPE
Old man Dexter came into his office every morning looking as — tho he had just swallowed an extra lemon, and it had begun already to sprout in his features. At the sight of his sour visage, every clerk involuntarily made a wry face, and their teeth went on edge. Sometimes the old grouch would growl "Good morning !" sometimes he snapped it out, sometimes it was too sour and puckery to get out at all. This last was a very, very bad sign. Everybody in the office was in line to be fired, or docked, or called down, as the case might be. At the very least, old Plodder — who had been the scapegoat for Dexter 's acetic overflow for twenty years, and was gradually shrinking and withering into a graybearded mummy of abused humanity — was sure to be blown up and called down by turns, until he was permitted to slink home and get a little of the vinegar out of his system on the heads of his wife and children.
Young Parks was the only man in old Dexter 's employ immune to the sour, scowling atmosphere of the office. The fellow seemed full of smiles and bubbling with good humor. This annoyed Dexter. In his valued estimation a man who went around with a perpetual smirk on his face was one of two things : an idiot or a deceiver. He seemed determined to watch him, and, incidentally, to make his way a hard one.
The trouble all began one Monday morning. Dexter 's clerks always returned Monday morning to the dingy, dreary offices with the air of resigned invalids dropping into a convenient undertaker's to make the few necessary arrangements for their own funerals. All except Parks, who bloomed like a friendly immortelle amidst the gloom. Dexter drove up on this particular occasion in his
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hearse-like coupe and strode into the midst of the obsequies, directing a well-aimed scowl at the smiling immortelle. Parks daringly returned the compliment with a cheery "Good morning ! ' '
Dexter passed thru in sullen silence !
Parks looked around at the others, now like so many cold grave-stones, and then, with still another smile, plunged into the mass of work before him with a vigor that shocked the lifeless office. "What this place needs is a resurrection ! " he mumbled.
"Mr. Parks," droned Plodder's voice at his elbow, "Mr. Dexter wishes to speak to you."
"Coming!" cried Parks, breezily, sweeping into the private office so quickly that the old chief clerk was nearly swept off his feet.
"Umph!" was his employer's joyless remark of disapproval. "Look here, Parks, thru somebody's stupidity"— fortunately he did not say whose — "all your rebate slips have been left home in my safe. I want you to go for them. ' '
"But, Mr. Dexter "
"How dare you object, sir!"
"My remark was in your interest, Mr. Dexter. Monday is my busiest morning. The office boy — — "
"Mr. Parks!" roared Dexter.
"I'm going for my coat and hat," smiled Parks. And so there was no funeral of Parks.
To Parks' infinite surprise, he found at the Dexter mansion flowers everywhere, several canary birds singing, and laughter issuing from somewhere upstairs. He asked the maid the second time if this was the Dexter home, and was told that Miss Dexter would be right down.
At length a perfect sunbeam entered the room, with the skin of a peach, the smile of a siren and the