“Why not look at them before you lose your temper?”
Caleb snatched up the Star, foremost journal of Granite. He glanced down the last column of the front page, and over to the second.
“Here’s the story of the show just as we dictated it beforehand,” he commented. “List of guests—Where in thunder is that measly speech? Have they given it a column to itself? Oh—way down at the bottom. ‘In a singularly happy little informal address at the close of the evening Mr. Conover mentioned his forthcoming candidacy for governor.’ Is that all any of them have got about it?”
“They have your pledge to run for Governor blazoned over two columns of the front page of nearly all the papers. But nothing more about the speech itself.”
“But how——”
“I took the liberty of stopping the reporters before they left the house, and telling them it would be against your wish for any of your other remarks to be quoted.”
“You did that? Miss Lanier, you’re fine! You’ve saved me a guying in every out-of-State paper in the East. I want to show my appreciation——”
“If that means another offer to raise my salary, I am very much obliged. But, as I’ve told you several times before, I can’t accept it. Thank you just the same.”
“But why not? I can afford——”
“But I can’t. Don’t let’s talk of it, please.”