“After all, I am not having such a bad time. It is not so bad to repent, after all,” said the Plunger.
“Nor to have been a subject,” added the reporter. “Who are the people coming toward us; they seem to recognize you. Are they some of your friends in a life gone by?” asked the reporter.
“Yes, and no,” seriously said the Plunger. “The man, however queer it may sound to you, was once my son. In this life, no; and the woman upon whose arm he is clinging is his wife.”
“How strange! The man is much older than you. This is an age of marvels, and when I stop to consider, I am at sea without a pilot, or in a wilderness without a guide,” commented the reporter.
At that moment Mr. and Mrs. Degatau came up, smiling, no doubt, at seeing on the street of a big, strange city, a familiar face.
Juan Degatau held his hand out to the Plunger, and said: “Papa, I am glad to see you. This celebration could have not have been much of a success, had you stayed away.”
“That I had no thought of doing. I have a twofold purpose in being here, however,” replied the Plunger.
“Yes?” said Mrs. Degatau, without further question.
“Ah, what a crowd of distinguished looking people. I must get out amongst them and see if I cannot get items for to-morrow’s paper, which The Hidden does not contain,” said the reporter, moving away uneasily.
“That you cannot do,” said Juan; “for if the seer sees fit to report to The Hidden, the most powerful daily paper in the world, the trivial affairs you are collecting this morning, your paper will fall short of being anything but second-class.”