"Take the evening papers first then," said Gobion. "Now there is the Moon, an organ devoted to playfully redressing wrongs. We will do an article for it on 'How Barmaids Live.' We can describe the horrors of their lot: a sleeping-room, 12 feet by 12, with six girls in it, and a window that won't open; the insults they are exposed to, et cetera."
"Do you think that will take?"
"Yes, and I'll tell you why. The ordinary beast who reads the Moon loves anything about a barmaid; they are his society."
"Where shall we get our facts?"
"Invent them, of course; there is no need for investigation. We can make it much more interesting without. Put it down: 'Barmaid—Moon.' Now we come to the Resounder. We must try quite a different line. It's a newspaper in a strait waistcoat, so to speak, and it's just been subsidized by the anti-gambling people. How would 'The Gambling Evil at the Universities' do? We could easily make some astounding revelations, and your name as president of the Union would have weight with the editor. What else is there?"
"Well, there's the Evening Times and the Wire," said Sturtevant.
"Yes; I think with them we must do short stories. I have three or four MSS. not yet printed which I will revise. All these things shall go in under your name, and I will invent two-stick pars about celebrities, and send three or four to each paper. For instance—
'It is not generally known that the Queen has a great liking for that very plebeian dish, tripe and onions. Indeed, so fond is Her Majesty of this succulent preparation, that a few sheep are always kept in the home paddocks of each of the royal residences to be in readiness if Her Majesty should suddenly express her desire. They are mountain bred, and are brought from the Highlands of Scotland as soon as they can travel without their dams.'
The British public love this kind of thing."