Jack stood like a rock against this proposition. He showed how in all Dodge there were but two babies, and that the mother in each marvellous instance held her darling to be a cherub fresh descended from on high. That mother would make trouble for the Weekly Planet and all connected therewith if any rival infant were pitched upon as that cherub’s superior.
“The mother,” said Jack, ominously, “whose young one got beat would let her hair down her back, give her war-yell, and simply leave the Weekly Planet on both sides of the Arkansaw. Besides, that gent don’t jingle a spur in Dodge who’s game to act as judge. But,” continued Jack, when Higginson Peabody, impressed by the serpent-like wisdom of his young assistant, had abandoned every notion of a baby contest, “I’ve thought up a play that ought to make the paper as popular as tortillas with a Mexican. How about a pie contest? Wouldn’t that meet the needs of the hour?” And Jack’s mouth took on an unctuous expression.
Jack explained his scheme. The Weekly Planet would offer a five-years’ subscription, free, for the best pie, any sort or species, sent to its editorial rooms, accompanied by the name of the authoress, within four calendar weeks of the announcement.
“We want to personally interest the ladies,” said Jack, “and a pie contest will do it.”
Higginson Peabody was struck by the original force of Jack’s suggestion. Hailing from what Mr. Warner called “the region of perpetual pie,” he could appreciate its merits. He put but one question:
“Whom shall we name as judge?” Higginson Peabody also added that it was beyond his own genius to act in that capacity, alleging a dyspepsia.
Jack’s eyes lit up like the windows of a hurdy-gurdy on the evening of a fandango.
“I’ll be judge,” said Jack.
The value of a pie contest as a spur to circulation gained immediate exhibition. The Weekly Planet jumped from thirty-four to one hundred and ten, and new subscriptions coming every hour.
Also, pies began to appear—pies of every kind. There was the morose mince, the cheerful dried apple, the sedate pumpkin, the consoling custard, the flippant plum; every variety of dried or canned goods on Mr. Wright’s broad shelves was drawn upon to become the basis of pie.