He bent over her. Tom stared in wonder, too, as Ruth pointed to an item under a certain heading at the top of the middle column of the front page of the sheet.
“That is just where I want my item to appear,” she said briskly to the editor. “You run that—that department there every week?”
“Oh, yes, Miss. The people expect it. You know how folks are. They look for those items first of all in a country paper.”
“Yes. It is so. One of the New York dailies is still printed with that human foible in mind. It caters to this very curiosity that your Harpoon caters to.”
“Yes, Miss. You’re right. Most folks have the same curiosity, city or country. Shakespeare spoke of the ‘seven ages of man’; but there are only three of particular interest—to womankind, anyway; and they are all here.”
“There you go! Slurring the women,” she laughed. “Or do you speak compliments?”
“I guess the women have it right,” chuckled Mr. Payne. “Now, what is it you want me to print in one paper for you?”
Ruth drew a scratch pad to her and scribbled rapidly for a couple of minutes. Then she passed the page to the newspaper proprietor.
Mr. Payne read it, stared at her, pursed his lips, and then read it again. Suddenly he burst into a cackle of laughter, slapping his thigh in high delight.
“By gravy!” he chortled, “that’s a good one on the dominie. By gravy! wait till I tell——”