A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it
cheerfully: "Evening, Mr. Fisbee."
"A good evening, Mr. Todd," answered the old man, pausing. "Ah, Mr.
Harkless, I was looking for you." He had not seemed to be looking for
anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached
Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. "I have
completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is
much doing."
"Thank you, Mr. Fisbee," said Harkless, as he took the manuscript. "Have
you finished your paper on the earlier Christian symbolism? I hope the
'Herald' may have the honor of printing it." This was the form they used.
"I shall be the recipient of honor, sir," returned Fisbee. "Your kind
offer will speed my work; but I fear, Mr. Harkless, I very much fear, that
your kindness alone prompts it, for, deeply as I desire it, I cannot
truthfully say that my essays appear to increase our circulation." He made
an odd, troubled gesture as he went on: "They do not seem to read them
here, Mr. Harkless, although Mr. Martin assures me that he carefully
peruses my article on Chaldean decoration whenever he rearranges his
exhibition windows, and I bear in mind the clipping from a Rouen paper you
showed me, commenting generously upon the scholarship of the 'Herald.' But
for fifteen years I have tried to improve the art feeling in Plattville,
and I may say that I have worked in the face of no small discouragement.
In fact," (there was a slight quaver in Fisbee's voice), "I cannot
remember that I ever received the slightest word or token of encouragement
till you came, Mr. Harkless. Since then I have labored with refreshed
energy; still, I cannot claim that our architecture shows a change for the
better, and I fear the engravings upon the walls of our people exhibit no
great progress in selection. And--I--I wish also to say, Mr. Harkless, if
you find it necessary to make some alterations in the form of my
reportorial items for Saturday's issue, I shall perfectly understand,
remembering your explanation that journalism demands it. Good-evening, Mr.
Harkless. Good-evening, Mr. Todd." He plodded on a few paces, then turned,
irresolutely.
"What is it, Fisbee?" asked Harkless.
Fisbee stood for a moment, as though about to speak, then he smiled
faintly, shook his head, and went his way. Harkless stared after him,
surprised. It suddenly struck him, with a feeling of irritation, that if
Fisbee had spoken it would have been to advise him to call at Judge
Briscoe's. He laughed impatiently at the notion, and, drawing his pencil
and a pad from his pocket, proceeded to injure his eyes in the waning
twilight by the editorial perusal of the items his staff had just left in
his hands. When published, the manuscript came under a flaring heading,
bequeathed by Harkless's predecessor in the chair of the "Herald," and the
alteration of which he felt Plattville would refuse to sanction:
"Happenings of Our City." Below, was printed in smaller type:
"Improvements in the World of Business," and, beneath that, came the
rubric: "Also, the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb."