McPherson measured the politician with a large prominent eye, then he said in a tone that would have carried conviction to a less excited man than Smith:
“If you do that, you'll go after it, and it's twenty feet to the ground.”
For answer Smith made a grab at the pile of copy in front of the operator. McPherson shot up to his full height of six feet, and extending a long arm, seized him by the wrist.
“It's twenty feet to the ground, Mr. Smith,” he remonstrated. Smith swung about on his heel.
“How can I get away from here, Ames?” he asked.
“You'll have to wait until eleven-ten to-morrow,” said Ames cheerfully. The leader groaned aloud. “Come,” Ames added, “you go to the hotel with me, and we'll be back here after lunch.” But once he had coaxed Smith back to The Pines, he abandoned him and hurried again to the telegraph office.
“See here, McPherson,” he expostulated, “it's all right where Smith is concerned, but how about me?”
“I'd love to oblige you, Mr. Ames; later, perhaps.”
“But that won't do any good,” urged Ames impatiently.
“No, I suppose not, since the News is an evening paper.”