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Libbey, Laura Jean, 1862-1924

"Mischievous Maid Faynie"


"Well," cried the other, his temper rising, the result of the brandy
diffusing itself through his brain, "what are you staring at me like
that for? Why don't you take the keys and go ahead?"
Quite as soon as speech would come to him the old cashier said, slowly:
"You seem to forget, Mr. Armstrong, that the keys have been done away
with some time, and the desk now opens with a secret spring which you
yourself devised."
"Well, come here and open it. My fingers are all thumbs to-day,"
replied his companion, looking at him doggedly.
Mr. Conway stepped forward and touched what appeared to be one of the
brass nails that studded the outer rim, and, as if by magic, the desk
flew open, the other watching keenly to see how he did it.
Without further comment Mr. Conway turned away and with slow, heavy
tread left the private office and walked toward his desk. When he
reached it his emotions overcame him completely, and he laid his head
down upon his ledger, tears falling like rain down his face.


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