"Mr. Goodchild," said the Globe man, "look pleasant!"
Mr. Goodchild turned quickly and opened his mouth.
Bang! went, the flash-powder.
"Hel—" shrieked Mr. Goodchild.
"—p!" said the pious young Journal man, with an air of completing the presidential speech. A good editor is worth his weight in pearls.
The photographers' corps retreated in good order and record time.
"For the third and last time will you tell us why you won't let your daughter marry Mr. Rutgers!" asked the Globe.
"No."
"Then will you tell us why you won't let Mr. Rutgers marry your daughter?"
Mr. Goodchild was conservative to the last. Too many people who needed money had talked to him in the borrower's tone of voice. He could not grasp the new era. He said, "You infernal blackmailer—"