“Niblo,” said the Chief Magistrate, “step into the square and collect some of that dé-bris. Bring one of each color, my boy.”
Preternaturally sharp in all circumstances, Niblo fully understood what was required. He made his exit with a duck.
Sir Munt turned thoughtfully to the room’s second occupant. Its second occupant was no less a personage than his stenographer, Miss Evans. An intelligent, demure, stylishly attractive young lady, she was seated before a typewriter carefully transcribing from her private notes a sheaf of letters recently dictated to her by the Mayor.
“Miss Evans,” said his worship, “if you’ve written that letter to Sir Stuyvescent Milgrim let me see it.”
The letter duly detached from the growing pile was handed to the Mayor, who looked every inch of him—and they were many—the City’s Chief Magistrate, as he put on a pair of eyeglasses to peruse it. For several minutes he studied the letter in silence with the frown of a man who did not quite know his own mind. At last, the study was terminated and the frown increased by the return of Niblo, who with a fine air of importance bore a number of pamphlets, some of which were white, some of which were red, some of which were blue.
Sir Munt read the white one first:
LOVELY MATLOCK,
THE INCOMPARABLE METROPOLIS OF THE
PEAK DISTRICT OF DERBYSHIRE
A select number of subscribers to the Universal Press will be transmitted daily to this enchanted spot, free of all charge, by Aunt Mittie Number Three (Chicago World’s Fair Model).
For full particulars apply to
George Butters, Esq.,
Chief U. P. Agent,
King’s Parade.