Looking up, Phil saw her father pass the window, and before she could knock on the glass to attract his attention he came in hurriedly.
"'Lo, daddy!"
"What are you up to, Phil? Where's Barker?"
"Out taking the air. His local's quit and I'm doing a few literary gems for him." She rose and leaned across the counter. Anxiety was plainly written on her father's face, and she surmised that something of importance had brought him back from the city at this hour. He had not expected to return until Saturday, and this was only Thursday.
"I must see Barker. Where do you suppose he went?"
"He's trying to make up his mind what to do about that," said Phil, indicating the clipping.
Kirkwood took from his pocket several sheets of typewritten legal cap, and ran them over.
"I want him to print this; it must get in to-day. The people here mustn't be stampeded by those stories. A repetition of them in the 'Star' might do great harm—incalculable harm to the community and to all its interests."
"It doesn't sound pretty—that piece in the 'Advertiser.'"
"It's all surmise and speculation. That's what I've been in the city about lately; and if they give us a chance we'll pull it out without scandal."