"'Do you mean pretty good, Silas, or do you mean pretty paying?' I ask' him.
"Silas put on his best official manner. 'Look at here,' s'e, 'what can I do for you? Did you want to buy somethin' or did you want your mail?'
"'Oh, neither,' I says. 'I want some help from you, Silas, about the paper to-day.'
"My, that give Silas a nice minute. He fairly weltered in satisfaction.
"'Huh,' he says, elegant, 'didn't I tell you you was bitin' off more'n you could chew? Want some assistance from me, do you, in editin' this paper o' yours? Well, I suppose I can help you out a little. What is it you want me to do for you?'
"'We thought we'd like to write you up,' I told him.
"Silas just swelled. For a man in public office, Silas Sykes feels about as presidential as anybody I ever see. If they was to come out from the City and put him on the front page of the morning paper, he's the kind that would wonder why they hadn't done it before.
"'Sketch of my life?' s'e, genial. 'Little outline of my boyhood? Main points in my career?'
"'Well,' I says, 'no. We thought the present'd be about all we'd hev room for. We want to write up your business, Silas,' I says, 'in an advertising way.'