"Ruined?" said John. "On the contrary. The circulation has been going up every week."
"Who is this person, Brady? With Mr. Philpotts I have been going carefully over the numbers which have been issued since my departure—"
"An intellectual treat," murmured John.
"—and in each there is a picture of this young man in a costume which I will not particularize—"
"There is hardly enough of it to particularize."
"—together with a page of disgusting autobiographical matter."
John held up his hand.
"I protest," he said. "We court criticism, but this is mere abuse. I appeal to these gentlemen to say whether this, for instance, is not bright and interesting."
He picked up the current number of Peaceful Moments, and turned to the Kid's page.
"This," he said, "describes a certain ten-round unpleasantness with one Mexican Joe. 'Joe comes up for the second round and he gives me a nasty look, but I thinks of my mother and swats him one in the lower ribs. He gives me another nasty look. "All right, Kid," he says; "now I'll knock you up into the gallery." And with that he cuts loose with a right swing, but I falls into the clinch, and then—'"