Search is not available for this dataset
text stringlengths 0 149M |
|---|
"And who," roared the old man, "micht 'Hank Cleaver' be to coom |
abargin' into my office wi'oot inveetation? Speak oop, mon! Time is |
money!" |
"'Pears to me," pointed out Hank reasonably, "as how if time's money, |
like you say, you'd stop wastin' time askin' foolish questions. It |
don't matter much who I am. The p'int is: whut did I come for. Ain't |
it?" |
Old MacDonald's fiery face turned two shades redder. |
"Why, ye impairtenant yoong scoundrel " he roared; then he paused. He |
said thoughtfully, "Ye're richt. So what did ye coom for?" |
"A job," said Hank. |
"A jawb! Ye mean t' tell me ye fairced y'r way into my office to osk |
f'r a jawb? The employment office lies doon the hall, yoong mon, twa |
doors t' y'r richt " |
Hank fidgeted uncomfortably. |
"Well, that ain't eggsackly the kind o' job I had in mind, Mr. |
MacDonald. Whut I mean is " |
I decided to stick in my two cents. Bashful as Hank is, it would have |
taken him all day to explain. "Hank means, Mr. MacDonald, that he would |
like to offer his services in an executive capacity." |
"Exec!" This time MacDonald couldn't even finish the word. He pawed |
his graying thatch wildly. "Ye dinna say so? Ond would the title o' |
preseedent sotisfy him, ye think? Or mayhop he'd ruther be Chairmon o' |
the Board o' Deerectors? Who are you?" |
"I'm Jim Blakeson. I was the publicity man for Midland University," |
I explained, "but now I'm at your disposal. Where Hank goes, I go. |
I don't believe you quite realize who Mr. Cleaver is, sir. He is |
'Horsesense Hank'." |
"And I'm 'Horsesense Hector'!" snorted old MacDonald witheringly. "So |
what?" It was obvious that he was no newspaper reader, or he would have |
known Hank's reputation. |
"Mr. Cleaver," I told him severely, "is a teacher of General Sciences |
at our school. He is well versed in a score of subjects germane to your |
business. Mathematics, civil and chemical engineering ballistics " |
"Motheematics," bellowed MacDonald, "be domned! The NBS&G needs no |
figgerer! I've gawt one o' the cleverest ones in the coontry wairkin' |
f'r me. My future son-in-law, Jawnny Day! Jawnny!" He strode to a |
doorway, flung it open, bawled his command. In the doorway appeared a |
nice looking kid with fine lips and eyes. "Jawnny, this mon claims to |
be a " |
But young Day had stepped forward eagerly, extending a hand to Hank. |
"Mr. Cleaver! This is an unexpected pleasure!" |
MacDonald's jaw played tag with his weskit buttons. |
"Ye ye know him, Jawnny?" |
"Know him! Why, every mathematician in this country knows and envies |
the logic of Horsesense Hank. Are you going to work here with us, Mr. |
Cleaver?" |
"Well," squirmed Hank embarrassedly, "that's f'r Mr. MacDonald to say. |
Seems sorta like he don't want me." |
But MacDonald, the ozone spilled from his Genoa jib, now backed water |
like a duck in a whirlpool. |
"Bide a wee!" he puffed hastily. "Dinna be in sooch a roosh, yoong mon. |
If Jawnny recommends ye, there's a place in this organeezation f'r ye. |
Ond f'r y'r friend, too. Now, let's talk ways and means " |
Thus it was that Hank Cleaver and I became employees of the Northern |
Bridge, Steel and Girder Company. The job to which Hank was finally |
assigned was that of Estimator. I was given a desk in the Advertising |
Department offices, though to tell the truth I was no great shakes |
as a ballyhoo artist for structural steel girders and forged braces, |
having previously boosted the merits of nothing more substantial than a |
200-lb. line and a 175-lb. backfield. |
But we got along all right. Until one day, after we had been working |
there for a couple of weeks, the boss called Hank into his private |
office. I tagged along. Old Mac had a visitor. A slim, prim man with a |
ramrod up his spinal column and pince-nez on a beak that would dull a |
razor. |
"Cleaver," said Hector MacDonald, "I want you should meet Mr. Grimper. |
Mr. Grimper, shake honds wi' Hank Cleaver, my Chief Estimator." The Old |
Man, I saw was happy as a lark about something; happy and excited, too. |
"Mr. Grimper," said he, "is a Government mon, Hank. From the R.O.T.C. " |
"O.P.M.," corrected Grimper sourly. "At the moment, I also unofficially |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.