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Literary
January 28, 1938
The Harlem News
Harlem, Blaine County, Montana
What is this article about?
John Barton, a partner in a firm, notices typist Barbara Beirne after she mistakenly types 'grinned' instead of 'chagrined' in a letter. Attracted to her pink cheeks, he takes her to dinner and begins courting her, appreciating her modesty. He overhears her tearfully telling Tommy Norton she feigned interest to protect Tommy's job.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
"Pink Cheeks"
SARAH E. McCAHEY
McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
WHEN John Barton returned from lunch and saw the unusually large number of neatly-typed letters lying on his desk to be signed, he realized that they included his partner's, who had left for the day after dictating his morning mail.
He opened his pen with impatience and began hurriedly to affix his signature.
"Who is 'B. B.'?" he suddenly asked of no one in particular. Tom Norton, the expert accountant, who came in once a month to go over the books since the illness of their regular accountant, answered.
"The one with the pink cheeks," he murmured, adding up a column lickity-split with the tip of his fountain pen.
John Barton arose. He seldom entered the office reserved for the firm's women typists, but he felt that a very palpable error he had just discovered warranted the intrusion on this occasion, and not knowing "B. B.'s" ring call, he pushed upon the glass door and entered their domain.
He scanned the line of six busy stenographers in a helpless attempt to discover "B. B.," and then, nonplussed, crossed the room to his own special one.
"Correct that phrase," he said tersely. She inserted the letter, erased the offending phrase, and substituted a single word.
"That was a bad break, Barbara," she laughed to the girl at the end of the line, when their employer had left them. "Your mind must have been wandering."
"Pardon?" murmured Barbara Beirne, indolently.
"You really have to consider your context, my dear, if you wish to avoid trouble. You wrote, 'she grinned,' for chagrined."
"I know it," laughed the girl, "and my little ruse failed after all. He hasn't noticed me yet!"
Back in his office John Barton wondered why the girl at the end of the row had raised half-frightened eyes as he had entered their room.
"Bet she's 'B. B.' all right," he thought. "Looks as if she knew better than to make such a break, though." Then the spirit of criticism started, he began to find fault with the whole office force.
"Don't we pay our girls enough?" he asked his partner the next morning.
"Who says we don't?"
"I never saw such a bunch of skinny girls in all my life. They look half-fed!"
"That's the way they want to look," rasped the partner, who was pater to a near-skeleton daughter.
"Somebody ought to take them to lunch occasionally and give them a good feed, or they'll fall dead on our hands if they get much worse."
"Why don't you take turns asking them? You're a bachelor. I can't!"
"Tommy," said John Barton next day, "whom do you consider the prettiest typist we have here."
"Why," said Tommy without hesitation, "Barbara Beirne, No. 6, with the pinkest cheeks," he added dreamily.
John Barton contrived to dictate some letters to Barbara when his own typist was late, and shortly after asked her to take dinner with him at the Sea Pavilion.
As they sat on the lovely pavilion overlooking the sea, eating delicious food and listening to entrancing music, John Barton decided that Tommy Norton's taste was unquestionably good. He appreciatively observed Barbara's pink cheeks grow pinker as the cool air from the water blew upon them.
It was with surprise that John Barton realized he was beginning to look forward with considerable pleasure to his occasional meetings with Barbara Beirne, and it gave him no little amusement to notice a growing reluctance on Barbara's part to accept his attentions. Obviously she hesitated because she must feel the difference in their social status, he thought, and she showed her good sense in doing so. Many a girl would have openly encouraged him. He appreciated her modesty.
He began to dream of the time he would finally propose to her. Wouldn't she be surprised!
And then one night it rained. It came down in torrents just as he was about to enter his roadster on his way home for the day, and he jumped back to the office for his raincoat.
When he entered he heard voices in the typists' room, and the loudest one was Tommy Norton's, which didn't belong there; and the other, tearful one, belonging to Barbara Beirne, and she was talking.
"But Tommy, you were always saying how nice he was, and how much you liked him, and I wanted him to like me, too. I only wanted him to know me well enough to not like me. I was afraid he would give you Carrie 's place when he heard we were going waiting for you."
SARAH E. McCAHEY
McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
WHEN John Barton returned from lunch and saw the unusually large number of neatly-typed letters lying on his desk to be signed, he realized that they included his partner's, who had left for the day after dictating his morning mail.
He opened his pen with impatience and began hurriedly to affix his signature.
"Who is 'B. B.'?" he suddenly asked of no one in particular. Tom Norton, the expert accountant, who came in once a month to go over the books since the illness of their regular accountant, answered.
"The one with the pink cheeks," he murmured, adding up a column lickity-split with the tip of his fountain pen.
John Barton arose. He seldom entered the office reserved for the firm's women typists, but he felt that a very palpable error he had just discovered warranted the intrusion on this occasion, and not knowing "B. B.'s" ring call, he pushed upon the glass door and entered their domain.
He scanned the line of six busy stenographers in a helpless attempt to discover "B. B.," and then, nonplussed, crossed the room to his own special one.
"Correct that phrase," he said tersely. She inserted the letter, erased the offending phrase, and substituted a single word.
"That was a bad break, Barbara," she laughed to the girl at the end of the line, when their employer had left them. "Your mind must have been wandering."
"Pardon?" murmured Barbara Beirne, indolently.
"You really have to consider your context, my dear, if you wish to avoid trouble. You wrote, 'she grinned,' for chagrined."
"I know it," laughed the girl, "and my little ruse failed after all. He hasn't noticed me yet!"
Back in his office John Barton wondered why the girl at the end of the row had raised half-frightened eyes as he had entered their room.
"Bet she's 'B. B.' all right," he thought. "Looks as if she knew better than to make such a break, though." Then the spirit of criticism started, he began to find fault with the whole office force.
"Don't we pay our girls enough?" he asked his partner the next morning.
"Who says we don't?"
"I never saw such a bunch of skinny girls in all my life. They look half-fed!"
"That's the way they want to look," rasped the partner, who was pater to a near-skeleton daughter.
"Somebody ought to take them to lunch occasionally and give them a good feed, or they'll fall dead on our hands if they get much worse."
"Why don't you take turns asking them? You're a bachelor. I can't!"
"Tommy," said John Barton next day, "whom do you consider the prettiest typist we have here."
"Why," said Tommy without hesitation, "Barbara Beirne, No. 6, with the pinkest cheeks," he added dreamily.
John Barton contrived to dictate some letters to Barbara when his own typist was late, and shortly after asked her to take dinner with him at the Sea Pavilion.
As they sat on the lovely pavilion overlooking the sea, eating delicious food and listening to entrancing music, John Barton decided that Tommy Norton's taste was unquestionably good. He appreciatively observed Barbara's pink cheeks grow pinker as the cool air from the water blew upon them.
It was with surprise that John Barton realized he was beginning to look forward with considerable pleasure to his occasional meetings with Barbara Beirne, and it gave him no little amusement to notice a growing reluctance on Barbara's part to accept his attentions. Obviously she hesitated because she must feel the difference in their social status, he thought, and she showed her good sense in doing so. Many a girl would have openly encouraged him. He appreciated her modesty.
He began to dream of the time he would finally propose to her. Wouldn't she be surprised!
And then one night it rained. It came down in torrents just as he was about to enter his roadster on his way home for the day, and he jumped back to the office for his raincoat.
When he entered he heard voices in the typists' room, and the loudest one was Tommy Norton's, which didn't belong there; and the other, tearful one, belonging to Barbara Beirne, and she was talking.
"But Tommy, you were always saying how nice he was, and how much you liked him, and I wanted him to like me, too. I only wanted him to know me well enough to not like me. I was afraid he would give you Carrie 's place when he heard we were going waiting for you."
What sub-type of article is it?
Prose Fiction
What themes does it cover?
Love Romance
Social Manners
What keywords are associated?
Office Romance
Pink Cheeks
Typist Error
Social Status
Feigned Interest
Attraction
Misunderstanding
What entities or persons were involved?
Sarah E. Mccahey
Literary Details
Title
"Pink Cheeks"
Author
Sarah E. Mccahey
Key Lines
"The One With The Pink Cheeks," He Murmured, Adding Up A Column Lickity Split With The Tip Of His Fountain Pen.
"You Wrote, 'She Grinned,' For Chagrined."
"I Know It," Laughed The Girl, "And My Little Ruse Failed After All. He Hasn't Noticed Me Yet!"
He Appreciatively Observed Barbara's Pink Cheeks Grow Pinker As The Cool Air From The Water Blew Upon Them.
"But Tommy, You Were Always Saying How Nice He Was, And How Much You Liked Him, And I Wanted Him To Like Me, Too. I Only Wanted Him To Know Me Well Enough To Not Like Me."