"Well, what can we do about it?" Mabel asked, for once at a loss.
There was a clamor of wild suggestions. It was at last Mrs. Karner, the woman whom Yetta had liked, and at whose request she had told about Harry Klein, who brought out a practical plan.
"We've got to do it through the newspapers," she said. "Stir up the press."
"Oh," Mabel said in despair, "they laugh when I come into their offices. They're not interested, or they're on the other side."
"They laugh because they're used to you. You haven't any news value," Mrs. Karner went on. "But they would not laugh if Mrs. Van Cleave talked to them."
"Hey? What?" Mrs. Van Cleave asked with a start.
"Oh! you won't even have to go to their offices; you can send for them. I worked on a newspaper once, and I know. You won't have to go to them. They'll come. The editors will eat out of your hand—do anything for you on the chance that you might invite their wives to dinner. Have your secretary call up the papers, and you'll have a hundred special writers camped on your doorstep."
"Well, well! What an idea!" Mrs. Van Cleave snorted.
All the women, with various degrees of obsequiousness, begged her to do it. But it was not the kind of newspaper notoriety she liked.