Chapter - 6 - Short Story - 02

Short Story 2: The Romance of a Busy Broker

 

About the Author & the Story

O. Henry (1862 - 1910), whose real name was William Sidney Porter, wrote some of his stories at the age of twenty when he was serving a five years sentence of imprisonment on some false charges. He has written about 600 stories in all and some of his stories are remarkable for their punch and irony. The sudden and dramatic twists at the end are almost unsurpassed in fiction. He was always in need of money because of his generosity. He died at the age of forty – eight due to overwork, tuberculosis and drinking.

The story tells us of the busy world of finance and stocking where you have no time for personal pleasures and a fulfilling family life. There is a touch of humor and irony in the way Harvey Maxwell was so absorbed in his workday world at office that he forgot he had married his secretary the previous night and proposes to her once again. As is usual with O. Henry’s stories, the last sentence provides the punch and dramatic turn. The reader is thus captivated and often remembers every O. Henry story he has read.

Story

Pitcher, personal clerk in the office of Harvey Maxwell, broker, allowed a look of mild interest and surprise to visit his usually expressionless countenance when his employer briskly entered at half past nine in company with his young lady stenographer. With a snappy "Good-morning, Pitcher," Maxwell dashed at his desk as though he were intending to leap over it, and then plunged into the great heap of letters and telegrams waiting there for him.

The young lady had been Maxwell's secretary for a year. She was beautiful in a way that was decidedly unsecretarial. She forewent the pomp of all alluring pompadour. She wore no chains, bracelets or lockets. She had not the air of being about to accept an invitation to luncheon. Her dress was grey and plain, but it fitted her figure with fidelity and discretion. In her neat black turban hat was the golden green wing of a macaw. On this morning she was softly and shyly radiant. Her eyes were dreamily bright, her cheeks genuine peach blow, her expression a happy one, tinged with reminiscence.

Pitcher, still mildly curious, noticed a difference in her ways this morning. Instead of going straight into the adjoining room, where her desk was, she lingered, slightly irresolute, in the outer office. Once she moved over by Maxwell's desk, near enough for him to be aware of her presence.

The machine sitting at that desk was no longer a man; it was a busy New York broker, moved by buzzing wheels and uncoiling springs.

"Well--what is it? Anything?" asked Maxwell sharply. His opened mail lay like a bank of stage snow on his crowded desk. His keen grey eye, impersonal and brusque, flashed upon her half impatiently.

"Nothing," answered the secretary, moving away with a little smile.

"Mr. Pitcher," she said to the personal clerk, "did Mr. Maxwell say anything yesterday about engaging another stenographer?"

"He did," answered Pitcher. "He told me to get another one. I notified the agency yesterday afternoon to send over a few samples this morning. It's 9.45 o'clock, and not a single picture hat or piece of pineapple chewing gum has showed up yet."

"I will do the work as usual, then," said the young lady, "until someone comes to fill the place." And she went to her desk at once and hung the black turban hat with the gold-green macaw wing in its accustomed place.

He who has been denied the spectacle of a busy Manhattan broker during a rush business is handicapped for the profession of anthropology. The poet sings of the "crowded hour of glorious life." The broker's hour is not only crowded, but the minutes and seconds are hanging to all the straps and packing both front and rear platforms.

And this day was Harvey Maxwell's busy day. The ticker began to reel out jerkily its fitful coils of tape, the desk telephone had a chronic attack of buzzing. Men began to throng into the office and call at him over the railing, jovially, sharply, viciously, excitedly. Messenger boys ran in and out with messages and telegrams. The clerks in the office jumped about like sailors during a storm. Even Pitcher's face relaxed into something resembling animation.

On the Exchange there were hurricanes and landslides and snowstorms and glaciers and volcanoes, and those elemental disturbances were reproduced in miniature in the broker's offices. Maxwell shoved his chair against the wall and transacted business after the manner of a toe dancer. He jumped from ticker to 'phone, from desk to door with the trained agility of a harlequin (clown).

In the midst of this growing and important stress the broker became suddenly aware of a high-rolled fringe of golden hair under a nodding canopy of velvet and ostrich tips, an imitation sealskin sacque and a string of beads as large as hickory nuts, ending near the floor with a silver heart. There was a self-possessed young lady connected with these accessories; and Pitcher was there to construe her.

"Lady from the secretary's Agency to see about the position," said Pitcher.

Maxwell turned half around, with his hands full of papers and ticker tape.

"What position?" he asked, with a frown.

"Position of secretary" said Pitcher. "You told me yesterday to call them up and have one sent over this morning."

"You are losing your mind, Pitcher," said Maxwell. "Why should I have given you any such instructions? Miss Leslie has given perfect satisfaction during the year she has been here. The place is hers as long as she chooses to retain it. There's no place open here, madam. Cancel that order with the agency, Pitcher, and don't bring any more of them in here."

The young lady left the office, swinging and banging itself independently against the office furniture as it indignantly departed. Pitcher seized a moment to remark to the bookkeeper that the "old man" seemed to get more absent-minded and forgetful every day of the world.

The rush and pace of business grew fiercer and faster. On the floor they were pounding half a dozen stocks in which Maxwell's customers were heavy investors. Orders to buy and sell were coming and going as swift as the flight of birds. Some of his own holdings were imperiled, and the man was working like some high-geared, delicate, strong machine--strung to full tension, going at full speed, accurate, never hesitating, with the proper word and decision, and act ready and prompt as clockwork. Stocks and bonds, loans and mortgages, margins and securities--here was a world of finance, and there was no room in it for the human world or the world of nature.

When the lunch hour drew near there came a slight pause in the uproar.

Maxwell stood by his desk with his hands full of telegrams and memoranda, with a fountain pen over his right ear and his hair hanging in disorderly strings over his forehead. His window was open, for the beloved janitress spring had turned on a little warmth through the waking registers of the earth.

And through the window came a wandering--perhaps a lost--odor--a delicate, sweet odor of lilac that fixed the broker for a moment immovable. For this odor belonged to Miss Leslie; it was her own, and hers only.

The odor brought her vividly, almost tangibly before him. The world of finance dwindled suddenly to a speck. And she was in the next room--twenty steps away.

"By George, I'll do it now," said Maxwell, half aloud. "I'll ask her now. I wonder I didn't do it long ago."

He dashed into the inner office with the haste of a short trying to cover. He charged upon the desk of the secretary.

She looked up at him with a smile. A soft pink crept over her cheek, and her eyes were kind and frank. Maxwell leaned one elbow on her desk. He still clutched fluttering papers with both hands and the pen was above his ear.

"Miss Leslie," he began hurriedly, "I have but a moment to spare. I want to say something in that moment. Will you he [sic] my wife? I haven't had time to make love to you in the ordinary way, but I really do love you. Talk quick, please--those fellows are clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific."

"Oh, what are you talking about?" exclaimed the young lady. She rose to her feet and gazed upon him, round-eyed.

"Don't you understand?" said Maxwell, restively. "I want you to marry me. I love you, Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you, and I snatched a minute when things had slackened up a bit. They're calling me for the 'phone now. Tell them to wait a minute, Pitcher. Won't you, Miss Leslie?"

The secretary acted very queerly. At first she seemed overcome with amazement; then tears flowed from her wondering eyes; and then she smiled funnily through them, and one of her arms slid tenderly about the broker's neck.

"I know now," she said, softly. "It's this old business that has driven everything else out of your head for the time. I was frightened at first. Don't you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at 8 o'clock in the Little Church around the corner."

 

Moral Value

Don’t always think that job is everything

Always remember your family

Be patient to face forgetful man

Don’t force yourself to work hard

Summary

Harvey Maxwell is a broker in the New York Stock Exchange. One fine morning he enters the office in the usual scheduled time with his young lady secretary who has been working with him for the last one year. Mr. Pitcher is the personal clerk in the office. He notices with curiosity that the secretary instead of going to the other room where her desk has been standing in the outer office. After sometime she even asks him whether Maxwell had asked him to look for someone else to take the place of his secretary. After sometime when Maxwell is quite busy with his work, Pitcher comes along and tells that he had brought one lady as was asked by him to be his new secretary. Maxwell looks up in surprise and says that his original secretary, Miss Leslie is very good and can continue as long as she wishes and plunges into his work again. The rush of the stocks and bonds, loans, shares and securities is going on till the lunch hour.

Just then the sweet smell of lilac comes into Maxwell’s room and he very well knows that the smell belongs to Leslie. He starts feeling a strong kind of attraction towards her. He dashes straight away into the inner room where Leslie was sitting and proposes to her right away. He says he loves her very much and wants to marry her. Leslie looks at him with utter surprise and did not say anything for quite some time. But when Maxwell keeps on declaring his love for her, tears start to roll down from her charming eyes. And with a smile on her pretty face, she says that Maxwell keeps himself so busy in his work that he forgets everything. Then she quietly tells Maxwell that both of them got married the previous evening at eight o’clock at the little church around the corner.

The analysis of the short story

The analysis of the story is depending on the element of story. The following analysis explained below:

(1)  Plot (2) Characters (3) Setting (4) Theme

(1) Plot

-  Beginning

One Fine morning Maxwell enters the office in the usual schedule

·   Rising action

Maxwell asked pitcher to look for another stenographer, it show when Ms Leslie ask “did Mr. Maxwell say anything yesterday about engaging another stenographer?” it’s actually Mr. Pitcher misunderstands call for a replacement stenographer to replace Miss. Leslie

·   Climax

Ms Leslie told to Maxwell, that he was so busy in his works so he forgot everything. Then she tells that both of them have got married in the previous evening at 08 o’clock at the little church around the corner.

(1)   Characters

Characteristic	Henry Maxwell	Miss Leslie	Pitcher
Physical	·  Expressionless countenance ·  Keen grey eye	·  Beautiful Softly ·  Shiny radiant ·  Dreamily bright eyes ·  Genuine peach blow cheek ·  Use grey dress and plain turban
Intellectual	Forgetful	Professional	Confidential clerk
Emotional	·   Impersonal ·   Brusque ·   Impatiently	·  Patient ·  Happy -   Cry
Social	Forget that Leslie has been his wife	- Not the air of accepting luncheon invitation ·  Patient force her husband	·   Obedient ·     Misunderstanding with Maxwell about new stenographer ·     Construe Ms Leslie
Philosophical	Hard work	-          Wise Patient	-          obedient

 

 

(1)Setting

·         Physical Setting:

-          New York Stock Exchange

-          Maxwell office

-          Maxwell’s room

-          Inner office

·         Geographical location:

-          The office

-          The machine sitting at the desk

-          The desk telephone had a chronic attack of buzzing

-          There is a chair in the exchange

-          Inner office

·         Time

-          In morning

-          Previous day

-          On 9.45

-          Luncheon hour

-          Evening,08 o’clock

·         Social setting

-         High class: In this story the writer use third point of view, because he show all the character from outside. On the other hand the writer also became omniscient narrator, because he enters the mind of any character, for example: Pitcher, still mildly curious, noticed a difference in her ways this morning. It is show that the writer tells the reader directly what pitcher thinking.

(2)Theme

The theme of this short story is about love, because it tells about the romance of busy broker that very busy, then he become forgetful. Even, he can forget his wife, he ask his wife again to marry him. His wife actually very wise, she doesn’t angry what her husband’s have done. She was remembering again to Maxwell, that they have married at last evening at 08 o’clock.