Two girls, in ankle-length skirts, rode in an elevator with me not long ago, talking rather loudly, as inexperienced girls will. Said the blonde:
"How'd you like your new place?"
"Fine! Nothing to do hardly," replied the brunette. "I'm going to bring down a book from the library to-morrow. Say, you'd just die if you'd see him trying to find something for me to do. I don't see why he wants a stenographer, anyhow. Honest, it nearly gives me heart-failure when he dictates a letter. Wouldn't you hate to be married to a young lawyer?"
Then they both giggled, and several men in the car smiled.
That girl did not realize that in thus chattering of her employer's affairs in a public place she was disloyal to the man who paid her salary, but she was, just the same—disloyal, silly and unwomanly. Perhaps that struggling young lawyer kept a stenographer as part of the little business drama of keeping up appearances. Perhaps he hoped to secure business from the very men in the building who were riding in the ear with his foolish stenographer.
If you feel that you must laugh at your chief, wait until you are alone with your mirror or safely buried in the bosom of your family. I admit that some employers are more or less of
