“Well, I don’t take the dare,” returned the manager peevishly. “That’s one story that the censor isn’t going to let get through if he can stop it.”
“What’s the harm?” inquired Jimmy innocently.
McClintock looked him over carefully before replying.
“What’s the idea?” he remarked scornfully. “Is your reason tottering on its throne? Don’t you know that if this thing got out it’d scare away the family parties that are the backbone of our patronage? You couldn’t induce women to come within half a mile of the park if they heard about this rumpus. They’d think it might happen again any minute and they’d remain away in a body—and they’d keep father and the boys away too. Get that straight.”
“There’s something in it, I guess,” opined Jimmy slowly.
“You put your money three ways on that. You’ve got a new job tonight, mister man. You’ve got to forget about putting things in the papers. It’s up to you to keep something out for a change.”
“Maybe somebody’ll blab the whole thing.”
“I’ve issued orders to have everyone instructed to give an imitation of a tongue-tied clam, but so dog-goned many people were in on this that it’s pretty certain there’ll be a leak somewhere. That’s where you come in.”
“What can I do?” inquired the press agent ruefully. He was plainly displeased with the vista opened up by his superior.
“You can do every little thing there is to do,” returned McClintock firmly. “I want you to make a personal matter of this. I want you to drop into town and make the rounds of all the morning papers. I want you to see every city editor and make a special plea to have the thing hushed up. Tell ’em it’ll ruin us for the summer if it gets out. Make it strong. It’s going to be the acid test of how useful you really are around here. String ’em along. Let ’em understand that you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m going to dust over home in my car for a clean-up and a long, dreamy nap. Goodnight.”