ppet
was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful
to make his morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr.
Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously
he had followed "The Duke" that first day. As Gissing moved through the
busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers
were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions. One day
he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs.
Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited
their husbands, but the latter were too busy to come. It would have been
more prudent of them to attend. That afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried
away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought
a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily
embarrassed in Wall Street, contented herself with a Sheraton
chifforobe.

But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not
going to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased
by the large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the
poison that lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had
been added to ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although
she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his
correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her small
paws flying. New pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery
georgette blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising
rise in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these
letters answered promptly.

And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction
at having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on
answering everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the
quaint diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It
is simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy.

This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate
confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him
for decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the
floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at
golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon him.
Inexperienced, he had not learned the ways in which seasoned
"executives" protect themselves against useless intrusion. His telephone
buzzed l