'Poor Raphael!' murmured Esther, smiling sadly at the grotesque images conjured up by Sidney's description.
'I go down there now whenever I want models,' concluded Sidney gravely.
'Well, it is only right to hear what these poor people have to say,' Addie observed. 'What is the paper for, except to right wrongs?'
'Primitive person!' said Sidney. 'A paper exists to make a profit.'
'Raphael's doesn't,' retorted Addie.
'Of course not,' laughed Sidney. 'It never will so long as there's a conscientious editor at the helm. Raphael flatters nobody, and reserves his praises for people with no control of the communal advertisements. Why, it quite preys upon his mind to think that he is linked to an advertisement canvasser with a gorgeous imagination, who goes about representing to the unwary Christian that the Flag has a circulation of fifteen hundred.'
'Dear me!' said Addie, a smile of humour lighting up her beautiful features.
'Yes,' said Sidney, 'I think he salves his conscience by an extra hour's slumming in the evening. Most religious folks do their moral book-keeping by double entry. Probably that's why he's not here to-night.'
'It's too bad!' said Addie, her face growing grave again. 'He comes home so late and so tired that he always falls asleep over his books.'
'I don't wonder,' laughed Sidney. 'Look what he reads! Once I found him nodding peacefully over Thomas à Kempis.'