Evening Star Newspaper, March 11, 1923, Page 70

[] Cowardice and Courage Both Have {Their Effect Upon the Career of i a Feminine Bridge Engineer. EAN Atwood was a bridge en- gineer. She had been gradu- ated from a midwestern uni- versity, the only woman in & Class of elghty, and she had been given special mention for the origl- wality and soundness of her work In bridge-design. Jean at twenty-two was the best ®ennis player among the 500 girls in the university, and there was not a ‘baker's dozen of men out of the four thousand who could beat her at the same. She was distractingly pretty. But no one ever flirted with Jean. The truth was that Jean was bashful. That Jean had done the seemingly courage- cus deed of studying engineering was due merely to a promise made to her dying father. That she was a first- class tennis player was due to this same father, who had taught her toan uptown club, but it was a poor Play. Jean finished college, and in July of the eame summer landed in New York. She brought with her $100 and a let- ter from the dean to Willlam Elkins of the firm of Elkins and Company, oridge buflders Jean waited in a bare little recep- tion room for half an hour. Finally & door marked “private” opened, and 2 stenographer came out. “Mr. Elkins will see you now," she eaid Jean entered a large room, furn- ished In mahogany and filled with a vivid glow from a western sun. There | was a huge flat-topped desk in the middle of the room. A man seated before it rose and offcred Jean his nand. Bill Elkins was about thirty-two vears old. He wus tall and slender with a thin, long-jawed Yankee face. His lips werc thin and firm, and his Dblue eves were large and a little sad. Jean was conscious that he was smil- ing at her as if she were an interest- ing child. “My old friend Haskins is certainly an admirer of yours, Miss Atwood,” he sald. “Sit down, won't you? I'm frankly curlous. This is the first time I've ever met a woman engineer.” “It's not as strange as it sounds.” returned Jean. mother died when 1 was a baby, and my father brought me up. He was an inventor and hie heart was set on my being an engineer. So here I am. It's not a really unusual story,” she con- cluded. “It might be,” objected Elkins, it one knew the details.” He looked from Jean, out of the window and back | again at the girl. Jean ted with breathless eagerness. Elkins eved her very carnestly. He considered the eves, set so deeply and far apart, the wide brow and the firm round chin. “I hate to disappoint vou,” he said finally, “but we have nothing open but a draftsman’s job at twenty-five a week. And I don’t want to give vou that. You'd be the only woman in a room full of young men." “Oh, that doesn’t matter!” ex- claimed Jean. “I grew used to that in college.” ;: “You! I'm not bothered about you! ¥'m thinking of those youngsters. You are unnecessarily good-looking for an engineer. Jean eat forward eagerly in her Elkins, that really doesn't count! The fellows all treated me it I were another boy.” “It might not count in college"— Elkins' voice was grim—but it will count in the engineering business. It's coynting heavily with me this minute, against, not for you—as an engineer. I'll be hanged if I think a very begutiful woman can succeed in a man's profession.” Jean stared out the window. Her father had admitted to her that she was more than passably good-look- ing. “I'll dress very plainly.” she said finafly, “and wear my hair unbecom- ingly. It's not fair,” she went on vehemently, “to consider me as & woman when T apply for this job. I'm an engineer, and a good one. Dean Haskins savs I have real talent. Don’t you need that in your concern?” “Goodness knows we do!"” exclaimed Elkins. “We seem to have everything here but talent.” He read the dean’s letter again; then he sald slowly: “Well, I'll try you on that draftsman’s job. It's up to you to get ahead, though. You understand that, don't you?” Jean nodded, and for the first time @& timid look dimmed the brilliancy of her deep eyes. * k¥ * LKINS rose, taking the dean's letter of introduction. “Come, T'11 {ntroduce you to the head drafts- man.” Then, as if he caught the new look in Jean's eyes, he added with a sudden lapse from his businesslike tomes: *“And if you don't make good, ¥ shall be more disappointed than I ever was in my life.” Jean caught her breath, and for & long moment blue eyes looked deep Jim Farrow, read' the dean’s letter with an expressionless eye, showed Jean to her drawing desk and told her to report at 9 o'clock the next morn- ing. But Jean knew that from the moment Farrow laid eves on her. he resolved that only ‘over his prostrate body should she mount one step in the firm of Elkins & Co.; and her heart sank within her. As for the drafting room itself, it was incredulous, then hostile, then friendly; and then Jean became merely one of the pleasant, well-liked workmen of the firm. Jean's first month merged into a second and third; six months, a year passed. Jean was still an efficient, inoffensive draftsman and nothing more. During all that time she never had more than a greeting from Elkins. Outside the office, matters had gone better. Jean had kept up her tennis on the public courts, and there made friends of some pleasant people. But she was not happy. With her second year in New York, she realized the firm of Elkins & Co. was not doing well in the world of bridge building. The drafting-room diagnosis of the latter condition wes fairly accurate and was interwoven with comment on the boss that Jean at first resented. But she came to believe that all that was said of him was correct. The drafting room said that he was not a spot on his father as an office executive, that he was a drilliant field engineer, and it was too bad that he hadn't sense enough to stayiin the field after his father's death and let some one else run the New York end. Why, ran the gossip, some of his achievements in the fleld when a mere boy just fresh from college | were classics. His handling of his men, his quick resourcefulness, the speed and sureness of his construc- tion—no one ever had excelled him. Bill Elkins lacked creative imagi- nation and didn't know it. That was why the firm was not getting the big contracts it had in the old man’s da. The old man was a real mixer. This exclusive stuff might be all right in commodity on West street. She had been with the firm two years when, leaving the office late one afternoon, she ran onto Elkins in the elevator. To her astonish- ment, Mr. Elkins added a word or two to his customary greeting. | “Still in the drafting room, Miss| | Atwood?* | “Yes. Mr. Elkins," replied Jean. | He eved her speculatively, and as { the elevator stopped at the main floor, | he said slowly “I'm disappointed in vou.” ! putting on his hat he disappeared | out of a side entrance. i “The brute!” she exclaimed to her- self as she plunged into the subway. | 1 “I'd like to tell him that I'm disap- | | pointed in him, and so's every one; else. Conceited snip! Why doesn't | he give me a chance? Think of the | Chilean contract we're bidding for:| We'll lose that too. I could crochet a better design than the one Mr. Elkins has O.K'd" - She was still fuming when she let herself in at the door of the apart- ment. Her landlady met her in the hall, “I moved you into the rear room today, Miss Atwood. I had a chance {to rent your room for two months at doublc the rent, and I knew you wouldn't mind.” “It doesn't seem fair,” said Jean a little fretfully, but with the famillar sinking of the heart at the thought of a row. ot fair! Not fair!” lady’s volce rose. “Oh, all right!” returned Jean | meekly, and she went on into the | dark. hot bedroom. She threw herself down on the {couch bed. Disappointed in her!| | Suggestion after suggestion she had | made. and Jim Farrow, through whom all suggestions must be made, | merely laughed at her. | “Cunning, fsn't it?” he'd say of her designs. “Nice tatting pattern. Why don't you try it on a woman's | magazine?” | She lay for a long time, bitterly considering her failure. Finally, Jean went to work on some sketches of her own for the Chilean ocontract. sketches which she knew would never reach the eye of either the chief engineer or of Bill Elkins—. * K %k % And | The land- T was perhaps a week afterward that Jean Atwood spent & Sunday with some of her friends at a quiet tittle resort on the sound. When the bathing hour came, Jean was play- ing gingerly in the water close to shore when a man swam in from the float and stood up beside her. It was the boss. “How do you do, Miss Atwood? I was waiting for you to come out to the float.” 1 “I can't swim,” acknowledged Jean. “Can’t swim?’ “No, 'm—TI'm afraid of the water.” Every lne of Elkins' lean, tanned face expressed surprise. “Afraid! Why, I saw you play a superb game of tennis this morning. Aren't you afraid of the tennis balls?” “No, I'm not. Dad taught me to rlay when I was a mere baby.” “Don’t you want to learn to swim?’ asked the boss. Jean gave a little sigh. “One of the dreams of my life is to be a swimmer. But I've given up all hope.” Again that look of speculation came to Bill Elkins' blue ey “Let me give you lesson. It's really easy. Com I'll hold up your chin. Try once, just to please me.” Jean's vivid lips closed firmly. Some of the high color left her checks and her dark eyes widened. But she al- lowed Elkins to lower her slowly into {the water, where for a mement she struggled with the breast stroke. “One—two—three!” he counted. “One—two—three! Hold your breath now: a wave is coming.” Jean tried to obey, but as the wave struck them she gave a shriek and threw her arms about the boss with the desperation of the drowning. He held her fast to him and for a moment, after the wave receded, the two clung to each other, heart beating against heart. Then a second wave follewed | i |and now long will it take?” | | Pointed in me! Then he insults me! I'm going to get a job somewhere else. As if he weren't a failure him- self! Somebody ought to tell him a few things.” Jean was very silent the rest of the day. She won two sets of tennis in the afternoon, but found no joy in the winning, and when she went to bed it was with a look as nearly grim as was possible for her. The next afternoon Jean obtained ®rudging permission from old Jim Farrow to leave the office an hour early. At 5 o'clock she, entered a building that she had passed every week day for two years. “I want to see the swimming mas- ter,” she said to the young woman H¥sans oo va— at the desk. A tall blond man in white flanncls, his thick mop of vel- | low hair waving, came in at the| young woman's call | “I'm the greatest fool in the world about swimming.” said Jean a little| breathlessly. “I just can't learn. Do | you think you could do anything with me?" “I can teach you he said. you'll come to the pool. You can't swim, probably, because you're afraid of water.” Jean set her teeth. she said. “How much ‘will it | | “T'll come.” | it cost, “If you really want to develop form and finish, you'd better come five times a week for six months. And that will cost you—" He named a sum that made Jean's heart sink. She gave a slight shiyer. “I'll be here tomorro she said. ¥ ¥ % % HE next six months of Jean's life should be told in terms of the swimming pool. All her other in- terests slipped into second place. There is but one thing in life more powerful than human fear, and that is the human will. Jean's cowardice and Jean's will were engaged In a the porportions of which only the swimming master and Jean knew. Every day for months. as the clock neared 5, Jean lifted her han to- ward the telephone to plead {ndiges- tion as an excuse for no swimming lezson that day. Every day came a flashing vision of two faces—the boss’, contemptuous of lip, speculative of eye, and the swimming master’s, firm of jaw and steady of guse. Every day at 5:30 o'clock she pre- sented herself at the pool. Every day at 5:45 o'clock the swimming master entered the pool with her. It was a beautiful pool. It lay like @ great square translucent emerald in the white-tiled hall. But it was long before Jean could think of it with anything but horror. The swimming master never made the slight cession to her cowardice. He never SN — - lost patience with her. He never allowed her to leave the pool with- out accomplishing the day's stunt. He forced her to force herself to hold her head under water again and again and again, until this initial tear left her. He enticed her gently but none the less implacably to lie on her back {n the shallow end of the pool. She clutched at him wildly for many days, but finally came a day when, though her face was white and her lips were twisted, she released her hold on him and lay floating on the transparent bosom of the pool Then came a day when the swim- ming master bade her lie on her back, while he, swimming with his shoulder bencath hers, pushed her the length of the pool. Jean stared at him. abject misery in her eyes. He returned the look. “T'll never give in to you. You know that, don’t you?” he asked. Jean, clinging to the cdge of the pool, turned slowly over on her back. Very gently, very slowly, the swim- ming master, bringing his shoulder against hers, began to swim down the pool. Jean kept her head until the black numbers on the pool edge said eight feet. Then with a scream she clutched the swimming master round the neck. Treading water, he removed her clinging arms. “You may as well be quiet, because we are going the length of the pool again and again.” She grew quiet and the trip con- tinued. Once at the end of the pool, however, Jean refused to return. The swimming master sat down comfort- ably on the steps. “I can wait as long as you can,” he sald. “This time When we reach the elght-foot mark you must float alone while I count sixty.” Jean's tragio face, turned pleadingly to his, was very lovely, but the swimming master did not soften, Before she left, Jean paddled herselt slowly on her back the length of the pool. The swimming master watched her from the steps with inscrutable / Z , i Mo eyes. When she clambered unstead- inly up beside him. he smiled: “Tired?” he asked. replicd Jean. “Aren't you? es, I am,” rising wearily. look for You tomorrow at the usual time.” It was considerably easier after that —~not but what, as she undertook the breast-stroke, the swimming master was obliged for many days to wear his iron look of implacabilit she learned the stroke form, and by degrees followed with others. There came an afternoon when, as Jean would have gone carefully down the steps into the water as usual, the swimming master said “This is the beginner's dive. me closely. Hands so! Head so Knees €0!" and he made a curving, silent drop into the green water. When he was back beside her. Jean met his level look with the old horror in her eyes. “Go ahead, Miss Atwood,” he said. “Glve me time!” whispered Jean. She walked slowly out to the end of the springboard and stood, a tense, slender figure, gazing at the shimmer- ing green depths below. Her face was white, her 1ips compressed. Five min- utes went by, another five. The swim- ming master neither spoke nor moved. Five minutes more. Suddenly Jean thi in beautiful Watch | {ish,” she told nerselr. lifted her arms above her head, stooped and dropped into the pool. She came up half-laughing, half- sobbing, and in a moment was back on the springboard and had repeated the dive. Her water foar was gone, % x % EANTIME matters had been go- V1 ing rather badly for the firm of Elkins & Co. It was losing more con- tracts, and an air of depression hung over the offices. At the time of her first dive the drafting room was at work on drawings for a railroad bridge In the Ande Jean, tolling over the strain-sheets, was fllled with scorn. “It's a stupid idea, from start to fin- THE BOSS SAT DOWN BESIDE HER. THERE WAS A BOYISH LOOK IN HIS FACE THAT JEAN NEVER BEFORE HAD SEEN THERE. “They should make a:suspension here and not a cantilever. They'll never on earth win this bid" The night after Jean had made her first dive, she dreamed that she had dived into the Hudson from a bridge she herself had swung across from Spuyten Duyvil to the Palisades. She woke laughing. On her way to breakfast that morning she met her landlady in the hall. “By the way, Mrs. Fisk,” she said, “you took my room away from me for two monthe, s now six. I The landlady's voice rose shrilly. You keep the room vou've got, and be thankful for it.” Jean tapped Mrs. Fisk on the shoul- der. “Not one cent of rent do you get from me until I'm moved back into my old reom. Im your steadiest roomer, and ¥ou need me. I'm through being used for a doormat.” Jean sailed on, followed by Mrs. Fisk's meek, “All right, Miss At- wood.” Jean was feeling very fit, indeed. As she jammed into the subway train a young girl who was chewing gum tried to shove her way into the seat Jean was about to confiscste. She planted a well-muscled elbow under the young person’s arm. “Thank you so much,” murmured Jean, and sank into the seat with & smile for the other’s scowl. When she reached her drawing- MR. DOOLEY ON THE WANDERERS BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE OOR la-ads, poor la-ads’”| sald Mr. Dooley, putting aside his newspaper and rubbing his glasses. “Tisa hard lot theirs, ‘thim that go down into th' sea in ships’ as Shapespeare says. “Ye niver see a storm on th’ ocean? Iv coorse ye didn’'t. How cud Ve, ye that was born away frm home? “But I have, Jawn. May th' saints e me fr'm another! I come over in th* boweels iv a big crazy balloon iv a propeller, like wan iv thim ye see hooked up to Dempsey’s dock, loaded with lumber an’ slabs” an’ Swedes. “We watched th’ little ol’ island fadin’ away behind us, with th’ sun sthrikin’ th' white house-tops iv Queenstown an’ lightin’ up th’ chim- bl v Martin Hogan's liqour store. ot wan iv us but had left near all we loved behind, an’ sare a chance that we'd iver spoon th® stirabout out iv th* pot above th’ ol’ peat fire again. “Yes, by dad; there was wan—a lad fr'm th' county Roscommon. Divvlie th’ tear he shed. But, whin we had parted fr'm land, he turns to me, an® says, ‘Well, we're on our way,’ he says, ‘We are that’ says 1. ‘No chanst f'r thim to turn around an’ go back,’ he says. ‘Divvie th' fut’ says I. “An’ that was th’ last we (13 of sky jnto black. She never was to forget|and Jean dashed for the shore. Elkins|or sun f'r six days. That pight come that look. Jean, unsophisticated, with 50 little self-confidence, knew that she waas destined to love Bill Elkins. The drafting room was flooded with zelden summer light. The eighteen op twanty men looked up as the door opened, but fell to work again as the Wass' eutered. The head draftsman, made no attempt to follow her. " he called after her con- and as Jean, stung to fury, turned, he plunged into the water and swam deliberately back to the float. Jean flung herself down in the sand., *‘Coward! ¥First he's dizap~ up th’ divvie’s own storm. Th' waves tore an’ walloped th’ ol’ boat, an’ th’ wind howled, an’ ye cud hear the ma- chinery snortin’ beyant. “Murther, but I was sick! Wan time th’ ship it 'd be standin’ on its head. thin rollin’ over cow-like on th" si an’ ivry time it lurched “THE STORM HAD DONE ITS WORST- lurched with it, an’ I was tore an’ rint an’ racked till, if death came, it'd found me willin'. * % % % ((Ax‘ th' Roscommon man—giory be, but he was disthressed. He set on th' flure. with his hands on his belt an’ his face as white as stone, an’ rocked to an’ fro. e «<Ahoo.’ he says, ‘ahoo, but me in- sides has torn loose,’ he says, ‘an’ are tumblint-around, he SATS ‘Say a parther an’ avy,’ says I, I that mad f'r th* big bosthoon f'r his blatherin’. ‘Say a pather an’ avy,’ ‘“O'r ye're neart to death’s dure, “Through th' storm there was a baby cryin’. ‘Twas a little wan, no more thin a vear ol’; an' ‘twas owned be a Tipp'rary man who came frm|gea An' th' little man near Clonmel, a poor, weak, scarey- lookln' little divvie that lost his wite, an’ see th' bailifft walk of with th' cow, an’ thin see him come back again with th’ process servers. “An’ so he was comin’ over with th' babby, an’ bein® mother an’ father to it. He'd rock it be th' hour on his knees, an’ talk nonsense to it, an' sing it songs——‘Aha, ‘twas There 1 met a Maiden’ an’ ‘Th’ Wicklow Mountaineer’ an ‘Th Rambler fr'm Clare, an’ ‘O'Donnel Aboo.’ croonin’ thim in th' little baby’s ears, an’ pay- in’ no attintion to th’ poorin’ thun- der above his head, day an’ night, day poor soul. babby cryin’ out his heart, in’ there with his eyes as red as his hair, an’ makin' no kick, poor soul. * K ok ¥ CUT wan day th’ ship settled down steady, an’ ragin' stum- micks with it. An’ near all th’ steer- age went out; f'r th’ storm had done its worst, an’ gone on to throuble those that come afther, an’ may th’ divvie go with it. "Twill be rest 'r that little Tipp'rary man; fr th’ ‘waves was r-runnin’ low an’ peaceful, an’ that babby have sthoppen cryin’. “He had been settin’ on a stool, but he come over to me. ‘Th' stérm,’ says L ‘is over. 'Twas wild while it lastedy’ says 1. ‘Ye may ssy 80, he. ‘Well, please Gawd,” eays I, ‘that it left none worse off thin us.’ “‘It blew {ll fr some an' aisy fr others,’ says he. “Th’ babby is gone. “An' so it was, Jawn, f'r all hie rockin’ an’ singin’. An’ in th’ avin’ they burried it over th’ side into th' e thim do w” . A0onsTight 1988 board, instead of taking up her pen-i’ cll, she gased long at the detail on which she was at work. Then, very deliberately, she took a huge bundle af sketches from her locker and made her way along the hall to the door marked “Private.” She rapped smartly at the door, and when. Mr. Elkins called, “Come in}” she: entered without apology. . i “Good morning, Mr.. Elkins” she 8uid.»“Won't you please ask Mr. Far- row to come in? I have something I ‘want to say to both of you.” ‘The boss’ astonishment shone in his face. “I beg your pardon?” he said. Jean todded. . “I know it looks queer, byt I can't go over Mr. Far. row’s hegd, and he refused to hand my sugsgestions on to you. So I'm going to see you both together.” B The boss fumbled for the push-but- ton. Jim Farrew’s lower jaw sagged as he came in and saw Jean spreading sketches on the desk. “Mise Atwood has something to say which she will say only to the two of us, Farrow,” said Mr. Elkins. “We are quite ready, Miss Atwood.” Jean cleared her throat. Her cheeks were a richer rose than usual; her eyes were deep and clear. “We all know out In the other room that things aren't going well with our business, that we lose more bids than we win. They say that you, Mr. Elkins, are a fleld engineer, a con- | struction executive and not & bridge- {designer. And as for Mr. Farrow, while he's a first-class draftsman, he couldn’t create a culvert for a coun- {try road. And he's determined that \no woman shall make designs for |Elkins & Co. The chief engineer is | old-fashloned. He was clever when {your father was hero to supply the idea, but he's no good now.” Jean moistened her lips while the two men stared at each other. Elk- ins’ face was expreesionless, but Jim Farrow’'s was flushed angrily. “Now, look here, Miss Atwood—-" he began. “Walt & minute, Jim,” said the boss. “What is your suggestion, Miss At- wood?" “This” replied Jean, laying. her and on ene of the sketches “Here is an idea for the new bridge, which I sketched at home. You see, you aren’t bold enough. There's no reason why you should do all the expensive grading indicated in the chief engi- neer’s and Mr. Farrow's design. Why {not a full steel construction from {nill 31 to hill 40, like this combina- | tlon suspension? Then veu cut down Mhe expense of your substructure.” | TE | * HE two men gazed in silence at the sketches. Bold, indeed, and | gracetul, but of obvious strength and simglicity swung the great spider | web across the canyon. | “It will demand unusual care and resourcefulness by the fleld engineer, of course,” said Jean a little breath- lessly, “but they say out in the draft. ing room that you have ne equal in America as a fleld executive. There's that marvelous concrete arch at EIl Muerto and the cantilever at Deep River and the three-mile suspension trestle at Twin Peaks. You and your father must have made a great team, Mr. Elkini She was speaking as though she and the boss were alone in the room. Jim Farrow looked like a man. of stone. Bill Elking' thin face was He turned from the e out of the window. After-a moment he 3a!d grufy: © “Jim, you go out and-get the chief. If you'll legve the sketches here, Miss Atwood, TI'll call you again in the course of an hour.” Jean bolted. She returned to her desk and sat for a long time, making & careful sketch of nothing in par- ticular. At-the end of that time she was summoned by the stony-faced Farrow. tered the room. “My hat is off to you, Migs Atwood. It's a real idea. You've no objections to some changes in detail, have you “That depends!” replied Jean care- fully. The boss smiled. “8it down, Miss At- wood. There are & number of things to go over. Farrow, tell Howard not to start for Arisona today and tell those chaps in the other room there’l be night work for the next Week. Now, then, Howard.” ‘The session lasted until midafter- noen. When it was finished Jean's bridge, unchanged in its essentials, was the bridge on which Elkins & Co. was to make its bld She ‘was glad that the rush into which the decision plunged all hands was so great that no one thought to make any particular comment on her share in the shift of plans. She feit that in taking her contridution for granted they were paying her the final com- pliment that & woman may receive in the business world. During the week that followed, no- body slept much, but the drawings, strain-sheets and specifications for the bid wers finished .on time Friday night. The boss ordersd the office closed all day Saturday, and Jean joined & party for a week-end at At- lantie City. Sunday afternoon they all adjourned to the pool. Jean did not go in at first. She was sitting with her feet dangling in the water, watching her friends splash about, when a familiar, quiet voice said: “Still afraid to go In, Miss Engi- neer?” Jean looked up at the boss with startled eyes. “Where did you come from?” she exclaimed. “I heard you tell young Archer ot your week-end plan,” replied Elkins. “I may bea failure asa bridge-design- er, but I can swim. Would you like me to give you a lesson?* 'Yes, you may try.” Jean rose as ehe spoke. “Come along.” They were at the deep end of the pool, and she dropped over in a clean, silent’ dive, coming up twenty fett away.” Elkins 413 not stir. Jean came back with a long overarm stroke, shook herself on the sateps like a puppy, and dropped down beside the boss. “Why did you deceive me last sum- mer? You ewim as well as you play tenn! he said. “T didn’t deceive you!" she cried in. dignantly. “I couldn’t swim a stroke last summer, and 1 was more afrald of water than you can possibly im- agine. But no one can call me a coward twice.” “You mean that you've wginee? Who taught you? learned 4 The chief engineer rose as she en- . HONORE “A swimming master,” repiled Jean thoughtfully, “who (s considerable o a person, when you come to think o 1t » E “Hadn't you fore?" “No, I was too buey fighting fear, and after that I was too busy reform ing you!’ Jean's lovelv black eyes. Srimming With mischief, turned-yio the bos : : “What di@ he have to say smbeu you?" asked Elkins, his face as i acrutable at usual, “Why, noth!ng, of coure; I-was jus & puptl” 5 : * % % % A HE boss dropped his aloof manner sufficient!ly to grunt: “He mus: be baldheaded and toothless, then.” Jean suddenly Jaughed. Shé neve: had had a beau, never had wasted the richness of first Jove in the littie searing processes of flirtation. Ya there was that in the “snob’s* mas mer that she recognized as well ax would any accomplighed belle. “Oh, Jean,” called Mrs. Turnmer, *i time to go up for dinner! We're a)’ coming out.” “All gight; I'l] have a follow,” replied Jean. she went on to Elkins, 7 o'clock. Come on in. the water to ourselves.” The boss plunged in after her “Show me your strokes,” he said as he overtook her. But Jean had had her triumph ard was quits content. She laughed thought ©f that be- swim and “Goodnesr " “it's meariy We'll have it's your turn. I've done my She climbed up to the marbie step et the shallow end. “Whew!” she went on conversatior ally, “they keep this room too warm don't they? Go ahead! I can mee your stroke well from here.” But the boss, shaking his thick we: hair out of his eyes, sat down besice her. And suddenly there was a box ish look In his face that Jean neve: before had eeen there. “Do you know, if we win that bid. who is going to act as fleld er gineer?” he asked her. “No, T don’t.” replied Jea “Well, 1 am. For five vears ie tried to carry out my father's ides that T manage the office. and mow T'm through, thanks to you. How did you ever come to think it out”’ “I dign't think it out. Everybody in the office knew what a mistake you were making. What I wonder a is where I got the courage to talx to vou as T did.” “Did it take so much courage® thought” — this very gently — “that though we'd talked to each other fo little, we knew each other perfect!y, from that very first day.’ Jean looked at him quickly, her parted lips giving ever so small & glimpse of her white teeth.” The bese 1aid his hand softly on hers. “Didn 1t seem 80 to you?” he urged. “Yes." replied Jean, “even though you were disappointed in me so long.” “And you in me" They both laughed. down, “Why do vou suppose I never had a beau?” she asked suddenly. “Probably because you never want- ed one. But you've got one now whether you want him or not. You needn’t look around; the attendant went to supper five minutes ago." “So must 1" exclaimed Jean, rising. The boss rose, too, and caught both her hands in his. She lifted her lovely face and stared long and wistfully into the blue eves above.hers. They were very fine blue eyes, with a high degree of pride and intelligence in them. But evidenty Jean found more than this in them. for when the boss wrapped her in his arms as if he never meant to let he: &0, she only put her arms about his neck. (Copyright. All Rights Reserced | an loeked Unseen Jewels. WELS are usually thought of as ornamental, but in one form the: are purely utilitarfan. As bearings for watches and other amall machines they are no less valuable than when they grace a ball dress or are strung on a necklace. The most costly gems are not thus used, the specimens em- ployed being small ‘Watch manufacturers of the United States use annually several millions of jewels, and makers of certain classes of Instruments also make use of jewels {n large quantities. There is, in fact, & steady increase in the number of jeweled bearings applied by instrument makers to such devices as recording and other electrical me- ters, gauges, etc. While large quantities of these jew- els are imported, a great many are mined and cut in the United States The processes of manufacture which carry the rough stone to its finished condition mounted in its setting ready for dropping into place in watch or other mechanism, comprise a series of most interesting opera- tions. There are several sources of supply for the rough sapphires from which the jewels are cut, chief of which are Ceylon, Australta and Montana. Cu riously enough, while we are apt to think of sapphires. as blue, they actually are found in about all colors of the rainbow. The Australian stone iz said to be the hardest and correspondingly brittle. The stone from Ceylon is not quite so hard and is less brittle. The Montana stone is said to be best for jewels Jn mechanisms where any strength is required, as it is less brittle than the others and less easily fractured. The Montana stones are sorted out as taken from the mine and those dis- tributed to jewel manufaoturers ‘sre generally of a light-green color, the more valuable stones being reserved tor settings in rings and other jew- elry. One of the surprising features of jewesl manufacture is the rapidity with which these sapphire bearings are produced. For example, ordinary sizes of jewels are regularly turned. drilled and polished at the rate of 30 to 100 a day of ten hours. The holes in these jewels can be drilled and polished by one operator at the rate of 200 a day of ten hours. To the ordinary mechanic. at least, “this seems like very rupid work upon such material. The production of some of the fine instrument jewels is. of course. lexs. 40 a day béing & Tfafr average. The polishing on these fine jewels consumes a somewhat fonger. time, each one beinz microscopically inspected. >