Mr. Jenkins’ facial aspect underwent an instantaneous change. He narrowed his eyes and corrugated his brows and gave other external indications of rapidly mounting wrath. Also his cheeks paled, and it may be further stated that his rather gangling frame became suddenly taut and vibrant. He eyed Jimmy for fully ten seconds and then turned to Miss Slosson.
“It is my duty to inform you, madame,” he said in a voice that was tense with emotion, “that this person is a press agent who will use you for his own selfish ends—a paid hireling of an unscrupulous management which has only one purpose in mind—deceit and rank trickery.”
Jimmy started to expostulate, but Tom Wilson gave him a vicious elbow jab which effectively cut off any utterance on his part. Miss Slosson smiled serenely.
“Don’t be too hard on him, dear Mr. Jenkins,” she remonstrated. “He has been a great help in our effort to raise the general tone of culinary excellence. He represents a most estimable lady, and if she gets a little publicity out of it she deserves it after all the trouble she has gone to—baking a pie with her own hands and sending it on here all the way from Chicago. We mustn’t be too selfish.”
“I warn you, madame, that there is fraud here some place,” persisted the dramatic editor, “downright fraud and deception. These gentlemen have a depraved talent for that sort of thing.”
“Nonsense,” broke in the pie editor beckoning to an office boy whose job it was to open such entries as were encased in substantial packages. As the youngster assailed the box she chirruped on. “I’m using another picture of the clear lady in tomorrow’s paper, Mr. Martin, and I’ll announce the arrival of her contribution in the opening paragraph. I’m just crazy to see it. Quite a large box, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” murmured Jimmy. “She certainly seems to have done the thing up brown.”
He was the picture of serene self-satisfaction as he watched the lid coming off the box. The prospect of triumphing over E. Cartwright a second time filled him with an almost ecstatic joy.
When the lid was removed Mr. Jenkins darted toward the box and pulled out the tufts of crumpled newspapers. He carefully unfolded one and looked at it. Jimmy caught Tom Wilson’s eye at this juncture and winked his off eye prodigiously. E. Cartwright, upon observing the heading and the date line in the paper, threw it down impatiently and began nervously to chew the ends of his moustache.
“We’ve got old George B. Grouch’s goat all right,” confided Jimmy behind his hand.