When McCready Turned Missionary

WHEN McCREADY TURNED MISSIONARY
By Anne O'Hagan

McCREADY was looking at Miss Crystal with the glazed eye of disapproval. One or two of the staff, taking note of his lowering brow and his hanging jaw, and following his gaze, concluded that he was dissatisfied with her work, and confided to one another that they, also, had marked its lack of "go."
Miss Crystal sat at her desk, oblivious of the brief attention she was attracting, her gray eyes heavy, her full, scarlet lips fallen into a curve of purposeless unhappiness. Even her red hair, usually vivid enough to redeem her from a look of listlessness, seemed unaccountably lacking in brilliancy that day.
As a question of fact, McCready's disapproval was personal, and not professional, that morning. He had never objected to the commonplace level of Miss Crystal's "stories." He had said, once or twice, that there was enough cheap flippancy, enough mock pathos and enough sham philosophy in the paper, and that her clear, cool English was a joy after the perfervid rhetoric of the "stars." Besides that, he had intimated that it was a priceless blessing to The Cry to have in its employ a woman who bore herself like a lady, and who could th

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