He said at last, "You’d be away three days in the middle of next week, then, wouldn’t you?" and then remarked vaguely, "By the way, one or two of the boys seem to think you’re a member of the Guild…".
"Yes", said Erica. She had joined the Guild on the 20th of June, and unless Mr. Prescott was slipping badly, he had found out within something more like three hours than three months. Evidently he was leading up to something.
"We’re not much in favor of it, of course".
There was another pause, and finally Erica suggested that the three days be counted as part of her holidays.
"Yes, we might do that", he said, and then added, "I’ll just ask Miss Munroe to come in and give Miss Arnold a hand while you’re gone".
So it was Miss Munroe again. "I beg your pardon?" said Erica innocently. "I’m afraid I don’t quite remember who…"
"My niece", said Mr. Prescott coldly.
"Oh, yes, you said something about her in July, didn’t you? It seems hardly worth while to bring your niece in for just three days, though…".
"No, it doesn’t, does it?"
Erica said nothing. They had been over all this before, but she knew that Mr. Prescott could not maneuver his niece into Sylvia’s job without her consent, and Mr. Prescott knew that she knew it. Although the Managing Editor of the Post went in for hiring relatives, the owner of the Post did not, and furthermore, the owner of the Post was a friend of Charles Drake’s. Although Erica had never yet made use of that friendship, still it might come in handy as a last resort. Mr. Prescott knew that too.
On the other hand, Erica thought, if she did go directly to the owner of the paper in order to out-maneuver Mr. Prescott, the managing editor would think up some reason for firing her in fairly short order, and the Guild could do nothing about it, because most of the men on the Post, which was supposed to be pro-Labor in its editorial policy, were too frightened to join. But what difference does it make? Erica asked herself wearily. She was not only tired of being tactful with Mr. Prescott, she was tired of Mr. Prescott.
"There’s a certain amount of give-and-take in any job", said Mr. Prescott, in the same tone in which he reminded his staff from time to time, that they should regard themselves simply as one big happy family. "Have you any particular reason for wanting to go away next week?"
"Yes. My fiancé is going overseas".
"I see".
After waiting for him to say something else, Erica got up. She said coolly, "As I have no intention of resigning from the Guild or of permitting Miss Arnold to be fired in order to make room for Miss Munroe, I think the simplest thing for me to do is to resign from my own job. Then Miss Arnold can take over from me, your niece can take over from Miss Arnold-and I’ll have my three days’ holiday".
It was the first time that she had ever seen the managing editor really startled. He looked up at her, obviously taken aback, and then finally recovering himself, he said, "A rather expensive holiday, isn’t it?"
"I don’t think so".
Mr. Prescott was strong on clichés. Presumably in order to be able to make the speech about watching her future career with considerable interest, he asked, "Have you any other job in mind?"
"Not at the moment", said Erica, and then discovered when she was halfway to the door that all the time she had been wondering how she was going to manage after Marc left, she had had another job in mind without fully realizing it. Now that she was finished with the Post, there was nothing to stop her from joining up. In the Army, they don’t give you time to think, or at least not during the basic training period anyhow, and by the time that was over, she would have had a chance to get used to things.
Back in her office again, she sat down at her desk by the window and opening the top drawer in which she had left a package of cigarettes, she announced to Sylvia and Weathersby, "I’ve resigned".
"Congratulations", said Weathersby.
Sylvia stopped typing in the middle of a word and asked, "Are you serious, Eric?"
"Yes, I’m leaving on Monday".
"But why?"
"I didn’t feel like making a deal with Mr. Prescott". Opening another drawer in which she was certain that she had not left her package of cigarettes, she added, "It was sort of suggested that one good turn deserves another, and that if I wanted three days off in the middle of the week, I ought to be more reasonable on the subject of Mr. Prescott’s niece".
"Her again", said Weathersby, groaning. "Have you ever seen her, Eric?"
"No, what’s she like?"
"Dumb", said Weathersby. "They don’t come any dumber".
"Does that mean she’s coming in here?" asked Sylvia incredulously.
"It means that she gets your job and you get mine".
"And what about you?"
"Oh, me", said Erica, abandoning the search through her desk drawers and starting to look among the litter on her desk. "I’m going to join the Canadian Women’s Army Corps. Bubbles, have you taken my cigarettes again?"
"They were going stale", said Weathersby defensively.
"I’ve only been gone a quarter of an hour. They couldn’t go stale that fast. Here, hand them over".
He recovered the package from underneath his typewriter and tossed it across to her. It missed her desk and as she stooped over to pick it up from the floor, she muttered resentfully, "And out of my desk drawer too. You never used to snitch them unless they were lying on top. It’s about time I resigned, I can’t afford to keep us both in cigarettes. Have we got any matches, Sylvia?"
"No, but your lighter’s working. I got it filled yesterday".
"Thanks, darling".
"Eric", said Sylvia after a pause.
"Yes?"
"What do they do about leaves if you’re married to someone in the Army?"
"Who?"
"The CWAC".
"I think they arrange it so that you have your leaves together. Don’t they, Bubbles?"
Weathersby grunted.
"I suppose he means yes", said Erica, "and Bubbles knows everything, even if he has no manners, and is under the peculiar delusion that it is his duty to smoke other people’s cigarettes in order to keep them from going stale".
"Do you mind if I join up with you?"
"Mind!" repeated Erica in amazement. "Darling, would you?"
She had had one week of marriage which had ended three days before when Mike had gone off to camp; they had been the longest and emptiest three days that Sylvia had ever lived through, and she said, "Yes", adding more definitely, "Yes, I would".
There was a kind of explosion from Weathersby who demanded, as soon as he could talk again, "And who gets out the Woman’s Section of the Post, may I ask?"
"You do", said Erica and Sylvia together.
"You and Mr. Prescott’s niece", said Sylvia.
"Are you really serious, Sylvia?" asked Erica.
"Why not?" She looked across at Erica and said, "I’d have joined up long ago, I guess, if it hadn’t been for leaving Mike. Besides, I didn’t much like the idea of doing it alone, but now he’s left me and I won’t be doing it alone-so why not?" she asked again, shrugging. "We’re sort of used to each other and we get along awfully well…".
"My gosh, yes", said Erica.
"Then let’s stick together".
"Leaving me holding the bag with Mr. Prescott’s niece", said Weathersby, brooding. "But I’ll catch up with you", he said, pointing a finger at them. "Six months and I’ll be old enough for the Air Force. Did I ever tell you that my brother got the D.F.C. and bar?"
"You’ve told us about the D.F.C. several times", said Sylvia, "but I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned the bar. Has he ever mentioned the bar, Eric?"