She was far happier in the environment of the editorial rooms than upstairs where she worked with the other stenographers in the midst of the bustle, racket and confusion of the circulation and mail order departments. She soon discovered she had little in common with Miss Foster or Miss Bixby; Miss Lopez was a pretty nonentity; Miss Pratt, an elderly incompetent, and Miss La Farge, a vulgar-lipped grisette. The girls realized she looked down on them and clannishly hung together, to talk about her among themselves. They were not openly rude, but Jeannette was aware she was not popular with them.
Miss Holland alone on the first floor attracted her. They smiled at one another whenever their eyes met, and Jeannette enjoyed the feeling that this faded, kindly gentlewoman recognized in her a girl of her own class.
There were a dozen other personalities in the company that the new stenographer learned to know and with whom she came more or less into contact. Important among these was Mr. Corey’s secretary, Mr. Smith, whom nobody liked. He was suspected of being a tale-bearer, an informant who tattled inconsequences to his chief. He was obviously a toady, and treated everyone in the office, not a member of the firm, with an air of great condescension. Mrs. Charlotte Inness of the book department was a regal, gray-haired personage, with many floating draperies that were ever trailing magnificently behind her as she came and went. Miss Travers, who was cooped up all day behind the wire grilling of the Cashier’s cage, was a waspish, merry individual, and although sometimes common, even vulgar, was both friendly and amusing. Francis Holme and Van Alstyne spent most of their time on the road visiting book dealers. Van Alstyne was English and inclined to be patronizing, but Holme was large-toothed, large-mouthed and big-eared, bluff and frank, noisy and good-hearted. And there was also Mr. Cavendish’s assistant, Horatio Stephens, a tall, rangy young man, with rather a dreamy, detached air, with whom Roy shared a room at his boarding-house. Jeannette found him vaguely repellent; there was something about his long skinny hands and drooping eyelids that made her creepy. And then there was Mr. Corey himself.