He was sitting at the desk when a messenger from the head office came
in. The messenger had been sent down to Westcote by the president, and
had just been across to the tag company to fix things up with Mr.
Warold. He had fixed them, and the lever he had used was a paper he held
in his hand. It had mollified Mr. Warold.

As the messenger entered, Flannery looked up from his letter, and he
smiled with pleasure. He was glad to see some one from the head office.
He wanted information about some of the words he was ordered to use. He
was puzzled about "stript." Did it mean "striped" or "stripped"? And
was "tost" the kind of toast you eat or the kind you drink? And how
about that funny-looking combination of letters "thru," and a dozen
others?

"I'm glad t'see th' sight av ye," he said, holding out his hand, "for I
do be wantin' some help on these three hunderd worrds th' prisidint has
been simplifyin' down. 'T is a turrible job they be, thim three hunderd!
Some av thim I never will be after learnin'. Look at this, now," he
said, putting his finger on "orthopedic." "And this wan," he said,
touching "esophagus." "Thim be tough wans! But it's thankful I am there
be but three hunderd av thim. There w'u'd be no ind t' th' day's worrk
sh'u'd th' prisidint take a notion t' reforrm th' whole dic-shunnery. If
he was t' shorten all th' worrds in th' English language, I w'u'd have a
long job av it, niver knowin' whin th' worrds was spelled right or
wrong. They be a powerful increase of worrk, thim three hunderd worrds.
Take this wan, now--'thoroly'--'t is a bird, that wan is! But Flannery
will stick t' th' list!"

The messenger laid the paper he had been holding upon Flannery's desk.