THE various tenants of the big office building were sorry when Jack, the elevator man, left to take another position. Jack was so good-natured, so friendly, always ready with a cheery word, and willing to wait a moment at night for the belated stenographers who came hurrying down the corridors of the building.
His place was taken by a man of very different type. His face was dark and rather sullen, and he seemed to have no interest in his work or in the crowds who went up and down in his car.
"I don't like him!" said a pretty stenographer with a shrug. "Such a contrast to Jack!"
The girl's opinion seemed to be the general one among the office people of the different floors, and no one made any effort to be pleasant to the new man or give him a word of greeting, as they had always done with Jack.
This went on for a time, and then one of the girls on the eighth floor, who was a friendly little body, began to feel a trifle uncomfortable over it. "Suppose he does look sour and disagreeable," she said to herself. "Perhaps there is a good reason for it." The next day, as she stepped into the elevator, there was a pleasant "good morning" for the one at the cable. She was not sure that he heard, for apparently he paid no attention; but she was not easily discouraged, and each morning a fresh "good morning" entered the car with her.
"Eight," she said one morning as the elevator shot up the shaft. It was one of the complaints against the new man that he did not know where people belonged, and so made it necessary for them to call their floors. Jack had been especially good about that. So this girl was surprised beyond measure when on this particular morning the new man said suddenly: "You don't need to call your floor. I remember you. You're the 'good morning' girl."
That was all; but a kindly look was on the speaker's face that made the one giving the greeting glad that she had taken pains to be friendly. Others in the elevator, overhearing the words, wondered what it was all about, anyway.—Selected.
