Horatia saw the garden obediently and the guests’ departure, followed close by the bedtime ceremonies at which Maud helped and presided, forced the matter out of the way. It was only as they sat at dinner that the topic rose again. Maud had composed herself and, considering that Horatia’s conversation had merely shown inexperience and ignorance, was no longer angry. She was rarely angry for any length of time. Now, looking at her husband over the neat central fern-dish, she said, half-jocularly, “You’ll really have to take Horatia in hand, Harvey. She is dreadful. Here she went and saw this Jim Langley person today and asked him for a position on his paper.”
“But the point is, Maud, that he gave me a job.”
Harvey looked at his sister-in-law and came at the question from a man angle.
“You don’t want to work on his paper, Horatia. If you want that kind of work, try either The Tribune or The Reporter. Langley’s paper is one of those enterprises that run themselves into the ground early. He’s always uncertain—no policy, no circulation to amount to anything. And then of course—Langley, himself.”
Horatia leaned towards him.
“But tell me about it, Harvey. There was a chorus of horror when I mentioned his name this afternoon. And he was the only gentleman I met this morning. I did try The Tribune and The Reporter. I even tried The Buzz-saw.”
Harvey threw back his head and roared.
“That’s a modern young woman. Why didn’t you take a job on that?”
“They offered me one—a scandal column, but I turned it down. Seriously, tell me about Mr. Langley.”
“Why, there’s not so much to tell,” said Harvey. “He’s in pretty bad odor, that’s all. The women are all interested in him because he was co-respondent in a divorce suit. Isn’t that it, Maud?”