"Does it? Well, I must put up my glory before papa comes. Oh, you are such a romp; but I was just a little afraid of you at first, you were so sedate and dreamy of eye."
She ran away from him, and looking back with mischief in her eyes, she hummed a schottish, and keeping time to it, danced up the stairway.
When Witherspoon came to dinner he said that he had consulted Brooks and that the resourceful manager knew of a possible opening.
The owner of the Star, a politician who had been foolish enough to suppose that with the control of an editorial page he could illumine his virtues and throw darkness over his faults, was willing to part with his experiment. "I think that we can get it at a very reasonable figure," said Witherspoon. And after a moment's silence he added: "Brooks can pull you a good many advertisements in a quiet way, and possibly the thing may be made to turn oat all right. But I tell you again that I am very much disappointed. Your place is with me—but we won't talk about it. How came you to take up that line of work?"
"I began by selling newspapers."
Mrs. Witherspoon sighed, and the merchant asked: "And did Andrew urge it?"
"Oh, no. In fact I was a reporter before he knew anything about it."
Witherspoon grunted. "I should have thought," said he, "that your uncle would have looked after you with more care. Did you receive a regular course of training?" Henry looked at him. "At school, I mean."
"Yes, in an elementary way. Afterward I studied in the public library."
"A good school, but not cohesive," Witherspoon replied. "A thousand scraps of knowledge don't make an education."