Ross was visibly embarrassed. “Why—fer—fer the other editor.”
“For Mr. Fisbee?”
“Land, no! You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken things up fer that old gentleman, do you?”
“I meant young Mr. Fisbee—he is the other editor, isn't he?”
“Oh!” said Ross, coughing. “Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer him.”
“You did! Did he appreciate them?”
“Well—he seemed to—kind of like 'em.”
“Where is he now? I came here to find him.”
“He's gone.”
“Gone? Hasn't he been here this afternoon?”