Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

8 Reel Llls of will power to resist sending a single complaining letter home. She knew that help would be forthcoming at once. But just when she felt most discouraged, "Bob" Conklin, the city editor of the Journal, took notice of her, to the extent of suggesting that she join his staf¥ on space. She did not realize then that the lot of a woman space writer is harder than that of anyone else in newspaper work. Social stories were all that Conklin entrusted to her, and the result was that her space bills averaged less than ten dollars a week the year around. Indeed the old discouraged feeling soon returned, for she found that last year's suit would not wear forever, and that made over hats were not conducive to that always-dressed-up-feeling most women delight in. No. 3-8 Third avenue was the address Conklin had given her. Molly Crawford walked twice past the dreary looking store front with its besmudged windows and dirty gilt lettering. Finally she summoned sufficient courage to open the heavy door and walk in. It was a barren looking room, graced with but two desks, each of which was deserted. But at the far end was a door, on the glass panel of which appeared the word "Private." Instinctively Molly knew that Mrs. Alice Hope was to be found behind that door. Also she knew that if she remained in the outer room very long, some one would come in and prevent her from seeing the wary Mrs. Hope, so with nervous haste she stepped to the door and pushed it open. There was a hurried scramble inside, and Molly distinctly heard the cling of glass against glass and the slamming of a desk drawer. Mrs. Alice Hope was facing the door as she entered, an ugly scowl on her face. When she caught sight of the girl, however, her attitude changed. "Why, how-do-you-do, dearie?" she asked in most cordial tones. "Another new member, I suppose? I'm so glad. Isn't there some one in the office to take care of you?" It was hard for Molly to judge her age because of the paint and powder. She was tall and decidedly heavy in proportions and doubtlessly her manner of dress vv'as meant to make an impression, but Molly knew her kind, and only by force controlled a shudder for she could detect the insincerity of her pleasant attitude. Also Molly's nose told her plainly that she had not heard the clink of a medicine glass when she entered. The fumes of whiskey were conveyed to her even above the odor of cheap perfumery. "Yes, I'm eager to' join," said Molly. "In fact " But Mrs. Hope interrupted her. "You ain't no shop girl!" she snapped. "You ain't no shop girl! W'ho ever heard of a shop girl saying 'eager.' You're a reporter (she almost screamed). Sending a girl this time, eh! Trying t' get something on me. Well, y'can't." "At least I can say you drink whisky," retorted Molly sharply, "and I can say you keep it in your desk too." She had stepped forward as she spoke and jerked open the top drawer of the desk, revealing glass and whiskey bottle. "That will go nicely in the story I hope to write about your organization," she added. For a moment Mrs. Hope seemed beside herself with rage. Then with what appeared to be a super-human effort she controlled herself. "You're a sharp one," she said almost pleasantly. "You are sharp. Well, now that you know I've got it, let's have a drink together, and talk business. I'll treat you the same as I treat the rest. Give you *S00 to call off the story. How about it?" She reached for a mesh bag on her desk as she spoke, and drew forth a roll of yellow bills. Molly trembled. Five hundred dollars ! As much as she earned in a year on space ! All for just reporting "No Story." Almost before she realized it her hand went forward. But at the touch of the crisp new bills she shrank away. Then suddenly her strength of will came back, and she could smile at her temptor. "You couldn't buy me off for five thousand dollars, Mrs. Hope," she said. Once again the woman's face became livid. Sydney Ayres in "Destinies Fullilled" American