[no entry today]
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H. smiles, she sings my name as I enter the Dist office, a song with only one word sung just for me. At her feet are boxes of circulars ready to distribute, her sleeves are rolled to the elbows like a cutter’s and she wears a hat I suppose to keep her “bob” out of her eyes, at her temple a tiny smudge where she brushed at a stray hair with inky fingers. Henry G. sits at the corner table with the pledge committee, they examine a ledger bent over to see the rows of numbers but he looks at me over their heads, his back straight, somehow more a part of my chat with H. than with the work of his companions.
The girl from the hat shop is here and she hands me a note, a message from Blitz about Goldberg, I must ring him immediately. Blitz is worried about Goldberg and his German trip, some at headquarters agree with him others think we should not ask him to speak, he tells me things are changing, the moment is delicate we must tread carefully.
After the call I return to the room and H. sits by the printing machine, she sits and reads Photoplay and does not look up as I examine the boxes of circulars, only another box or two to go and we will have enough. I commend H. on her efforts, we have just a little more to do, and now she closes her magazine, her face a lovely pout, she is joking I think when she asks “Is that all you can say?” She tells me she has been there all afternoon perspiring and getting dirty for me. “And you walk in and make a telephone call and then that’s all you can say.”
I hold out my hand to help her to her feet but she gets up and drops Photoplay on the chair. She tells me if not for Henry G.’s help she might not have done as much as she did, really he was a great help, such a gentleman. Henry must not have worked today, we are in a slack season many of us are off here and there.
“I forgive you Harry if you promise to be good from now on,” H. says. “Now let me tell you my idea.”
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[Note: This post is a continuation of group started on Dec. 7]