was absent.
It bore out the managing editor's assertion of H. R.'s distaste of publicity.
"Go out and lasso your maverick advertisers," said the managing editor, sternly, after he had read the S. A. S. A. advertisement—full-page, too! "I'll take care of the news columns."
"The damned sandwich men are so thick in this town I'll have trouble in breaking through their lines."
"Use dynamite!" said the managing editor, savagely. He owned ten bonds of his own paper.
He then summoned the city editor and said, sternly:
"Mr. Welles, under no circumstances whatever must this paper mention sandwiches or sandwich advertising or the S. A. S. A."
"Did you see their latest exploit? Two hundred and seventy-six sandwiches to the block, by actual count. Talk about high art!"
"They have commercialized it," frowned the managing editor. "Not a line—ever!"
The same thing must have happened in all the other offices. The public talked about the advertising revolution and the wonderful new styles in boards; and they looked in the next morning's papers to get all the picturesque details, as usual. Not a word!