"No, you don't, … silly! Tell me what Gossom said about the place."
"He didn't say much about that; he talked about G. Lafayette Gossom and The People's Magazine chiefly…. The mess of pottage is three hundred a month. I am to be understudy to the great fount of ideas. When he has an inspiration he will push a bell, and I am to run and catch it as it flows red hot from his lips and put it into shape,—if I can."
Cairy nursed his injured leg with a disgusted air.
"Don't sniff, Tommy,—there are lots of men who would like to be in your shoes."
"I know…. Oh, I am not ungrateful for my daily bread. I kiss the hand that found it,—the hand of power!"
"Silly! Don't be literary with me. Perhaps I put the idea into old Noddy
Gossom's head when he was here the other night. You'll have to humor him,
listen to his pomposity. But he has made a success of that People's
Magazine. It is an influence, and it pays!"
"Four hundred thousand a year, chiefly automobile and corset ads, I should say."
"Nearly half a million a year!" Conny cried with the air of 'See what I have done for you!'
"Yes!" the Southerner remarked with scornful emphasis … "I shall harness myself once more to the car of triumphant prosperity, and stretch forth my hungry hands to catch the grains that dribble in the rear. Compromise! Compromise! All is Compromise!"
"Now you are literary again," Conny pronounced severely. "Your play wasn't a success,—there was no compromise about that! The managers don't want your new play. Gossom does want your little articles. You have to live, and you take the best you can get,—pretty good, too."