“So I’ve heard,” said Garwood.
“Thus far, you may have noticed, we have been neutral, that is, I should say, independent, as between you and Judge Bromley.”
Garwood was looking out of his window down into the court house square, where the winds played with the rubbish that always litters the streets of Grand Prairie. He made no reply, and Pusey eyed him out of his swimming little eyes.
“Yes,” continued Pusey, pinching his chin, “we have waited to see how events would shape themselves before—ah—”
Garwood grunted, and Pusey went on:
“Yes—ah—I had come to the conclusion that perhaps our best course would be to support you, inasmuch as you’re our fellow townsman—and it occurred to me that perhaps a write-up would do you some good, that is, with the great mass of the common people, the laboring people generally, you understand.”
“I should be obliged to you, of course,” said Garwood.
“H-m-m, yes,” answered Pusey, “I presume so. But—if I—that is, we, were to give you such a write-up and run your cut, you would, I presume, be ready to take twenty or thirty thousand copies for distribution?”
“What would it cost?” said Garwood.
“Well—at two cents a copy—you can—”