The Girl and the Habit

by O. Henry

　　

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HABIT--a tendency or aptitude acquired by custom or frequentrepetition. The critics have assailed every source of inspiration save one. To thatone we are driven for our moral theme. When we levied upon the mastersof old they gleefully dug up the parallels to our columns. When westrove to set forth real life they reproached us for trying to imitateHenry George, George Washington, Washington Irving, and IrvingBacheller. We wrote of the West and the East, and they accused usof both Jesse and Henry James. We wrote from our heart--and theysaid something about a disordered liver. We took a text from Matthewor--er--yes, Deuteronomy, but the preachers were hammering away at theinspiration idea before we could get into type. So, driven to the wall,we go for our subject-matter to the reliable, old, moral, unassailablevade mecum--the unabridged dictionary. Miss Merriam was cashier at Hinkle's. Hinkle's is one of the bigdowntown restaurants. It is in what the papers call the "financialdistrict." Each day from 12 o'clock to 2 Hinkle's was full of hungrycustomers--messenger boys, stenographers, brokers, owners of miningstock, promoters, inventors with patents pending--and also people withmoney. The cashiership at Hinkle's was no sinecure. Hinkle egged and toastedand griddle-caked and coffeed a good many customers; and he lunched(as good a word as "dined") many more. It might be said that Hinkle'sbreakfast crowd was a contingent, but his luncheon patronage amountedto a horde. Miss Merriam sat on a stool at a desk inclosed on three sides by astrong, high fencing of woven brass wire. Through an arched opening atthe bottom you thrust your waiter's check and the money, while yourheart went pit-a-pat. For Miss Merriam was lovely and capable. She could take 45 cents out ofa $2 bill and refuse an offer of marriage before you could--Next!--lostyour chance--please don't shove. She could keep cool and collected whileshe collected your check, give you the correct change, win your heart,indicate the toothpick stand, and rate you to a quarter of a cent betterthan Bradstreet could to a thousand in less time than it takes to pepperan egg with one of Hinkle's casters. There is an old and dignified allusion to the "fierce light that beatsupon a throne." The light that beats upon the young lady cashier's cageis also something fierce. The other fellow is responsible for the slang. Every male patron of Hinkle's, from the A. D. T. boys up to thecurbstone brokers, adored Miss Merriam. When they paid their checksthey wooed her with every wile known to Cupid's art. Between the meshesof the brass railing went smiles, winks, compliments, tender vows,invitations to dinner, sighs, languishing looks and merry banter thatwas wafted pointedly back by the gifted Miss Merriam. There is no coign of vantage more effective than the position of younglady cashier. She sits there, easily queen of the court of commerce; sheis duchess of dollars and devoirs, countess of compliments and coin,leading lady of love and luncheon. You take from her a smile and aCanadian dime, and you go your way uncomplaining. You count the cheeryword or two that she tosses you as misers count their treasures; andyou pocket the change for a five uncomputed. Perhaps the brass-boundinaccessibility multiplies her charms--anyhow, she is a shirt-waistedangel, immaculate, trim, manicured, seductive, bright-eyed, ready,alert--Psyche, Circe, and Ate in one, separating you from yourcirculating medium after your sirloin medium. The young men who broke bread at Hinkle's never settled with the cashierwithout an exchange of badinage and open compliment. Many of them wentto greater lengths and dropped promissory hints of theatre ticketsand chocolates. The older men spoke plainly of orange blossoms,generally withering the tentative petals by after-allusions to Harlemflats. One broker, who had been squeezed by copper proposed to MissMerriam more regularly than he ate. During a brisk luncheon hour Miss Merriam's conversation, while she tookmoney for checks, would run something like this: "Good morning, Mr. Haskins--sir?--it's natural, thank you--don't bequite so fresh . . . Hello, Johnny--ten, fifteen, twenty--chase alongnow or they'll take the letters off your cap . . . Beg pardon--countit again, please--Oh, don't mention it . . . Vaudeville?--thanks;not on your moving picture--I was to see Carter in Hedda Gabler onWednesday night with Mr. Simmons . . . 'Scuse me, I thought thatwas a quarter . . . Twenty-five and seventy-five's a dollar--gotthat ham-and-cabbage habit yet. I see, Billy . . . Who are youaddressing?--say--you'll get all that's coming to you in aminute . . . Oh, fudge! Mr. Bassett--you're always fooling--no--?Well, maybe I'll marry you some day--three, four and sixty-fiveis five . . . Kindly keep them remarks to yourself, if youplease . . . Ten cents?--'scuse me; the check calls for seventy--well,maybe it is a one instead of a seven . . . Oh, do you like it thatway, Mr. Saunders?--some prefer a pomp; but they say this Cleo deMerody does suit refined features . . . and ten is fifty . . . Hikealong there, buddy; don't take this for a Coney Island ticketbooth . . . Huh?--why, Macy's--don't it fit nice? Oh, no, it isn't toocool--these light-weight fabrics is all the go this season . . . Comeagain, please--that's the third time you've tried to--what?--forgetit--that lead quarter is an old friend of mine . . . Sixty-five?--musthave had your salary raised, Mr. Wilson . . . I seen you on SixthAvenue Tuesday afternoon, Mr. De Forest--swell?--oh, my!--whois she? . . . What's the matter with it?--why, it ain'tmoney--what?--Columbian half?--well, this ain't SouthAmerica . . . Yes, I like the mixed best--Friday?--awfullysorry, but I take my jiu-jitsu lesson on Friday--Thursday,then . . . Thanks--that's sixteen times I've been told that thismorning--I guess I must be beautiful . . . Cut that out, please--whodo you think I am? . . . Why, Mr. Westbrook--do you really thinkso?--the ideaeighty and twenty's a dollar--thank you ever somuch, but I don't ever go automobile riding with gentlemen--youraunt?--well, that's different--perhaps . . . Please don't getfresh--your check was fifteen cents, I believe--kindly step aside andlet . . . Hello, Ben--coming around Thursday evening?--there's agentleman going to send around a box of chocolates, and . . . fortyand sixty is a dollar, and one is two . . ." About the middle of one afternoon the dizzy goddess Vertigo--whose othername is Fortune--suddenly smote an old, wealthy and eccentric bankerwhile he was walking past Hinkle's, on his way to a street car. Awealthy and eccentric banker who rides in street cars is--move up,please; there are others. A Samaritan, a Pharisee, a man and a policeman who were first on thespot lifted Banker McRamsey and carried him into Hinkle's restaurant.When the aged but indestructible banker opened his eyes he saw abeautiful vision bending over him with a pitiful, tender smile, bathinghis forehead with beef tea and chafing his hands with something frappéout of a chafing-dish. Mr. McRamsey sighed, lost a vest button, gazedwith deep gratitude upon his fair preserveress, and then recoveredconsciousness. To the Seaside Library all who are anticipating a romance! BankerMcRamsey had an aged and respected wife, and his sentiments towardMiss Merriam were fatherly. He talked to her for half an hour withinterest--not the kind that went with his talks during business hours.The next day he brought Mrs. McRamsey down to see her. The old couplewere childless--they had only a married daughter living in Brooklyn. To make a short story shorter, the beautiful cashier won the heartsof the good old couple. They came to Hinkle's again and again; theyinvited her to their old-fashioned but splendid home in one of the EastSeventies. Miss Merriam's winning loveliness, her sweet frankness andimpulsive heart took them by storm. They said a hundred times that MissMerriam reminded them so much of their lost daughter. The Brooklynmatron, née Ramsey, had the figure of Buddha and a face like the idealof an art photographer. Miss Merriam was a combination of curves,smiles, rose leaves, pearls, satin and hair-tonic posters. Enough of thefatuity of parents. A month after the worthy couple became acquainted with Miss Merriam, shestood before Hinkle one afternoon and resigned her cashiership. "They're going to adopt me," she told the bereft restaurateur. "They'refunny old people, but regular dears. And the swell home they have got!Say, Hinkle, there isn't any use of talking--I'm on the à la carte towear brown duds and goggles in a whiz wagon, or marry a duke at least.Still, I somehow hate to break out of the old cage. I've been cashieringso long I feel funny doing anything else. I'll miss joshing the fellowsawfully when they line up to pay for the buckwheats and. But I can't letthis chance slide. And they're awfully good, Hinkle; I know I'll have aswell time. You owe me nine-sixty-two and a half for the week. Cut outthe half if it hurts you, Hinkle." And they did. Miss Merriam became Miss Rosa McRamsey. And she graced thetransition. Beauty is only skin-deep, but the nerves lie very near tothe skin. Nerve--but just here will you oblige by perusing again thequotation with which this story begins? The McRamseys poured out money like domestic champagne to polish theiradopted one. Milliners, dancing masters and private tutors got it.Miss--er--McRamsey was grateful, loving, and tried to forget Hinkle's.To give ample credit to the adaptability of the American girl, Hinkle'sdid fade from her memory and speech most of the time. Not every one will remember when the Earl of Hitesbury came to EastSeventy---- Street, America. He was only a fair-to-medium earl, withoutdebts, and he created little excitement. But you will surely rememberthe evening when the Daughters of Benevolence held their bazaar in theW----f-A----a Hotel. For you were there, and you wrote a note to Fannieon the hotel paper, and mailed it, just to show her that--you did not?Very well; that was the evening the baby was sick, of course. At the bazaar the McRamseys were prominent. Miss Mer--er--McRamsey wasexquisitely beautiful. The Earl of Hitesbury had been very attentive toher since he dropped in to have a look at America. At the charity bazaarthe affair was supposed to be going to be pulled off to a finish. Anearl is as good as a duke. Better. His standing may be lower, but hisoutstanding accounts are also lower. Our ex-young-lady-cashier was assigned to a booth. She was expected tosell worthless articles to nobs and snobs at exorbitant prices. Theproceeds of the bazaar were to be used for giving the poor children ofthe slums a Christmas din----Say! did you ever wonder where they get theother 364? Miss McRamsey--beautiful, palpitating, excited, charming,radiant--fluttered about in her booth. An imitation brass network, witha little arched opening, fenced her in. Along came the Earl, assured, delicate, accurate, admiring--admiringgreatly, and faced the open wicket. "You look chawming, you know--'pon my word you do--my deah," he said,beguilingly. Miss McRamsey whirled around. "Cut that joshing out," she said, coolly and briskly. "Who do you thinkyou are talking to? Your check, please. Oh, Lordy!--" Patrons of the bazaar became aware of a commotion and pressed around acertain booth. The Earl of Hitesbury stood near by pulling a pale blondand puzzled whisker. "Miss McRamsey has fainted," some one explained.

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