ne of those ideas
for "pointing" a story, mere commonplaces of journalism nowadays, which
later were to give him his editorial reputation. In the pride of his
publicity-loving soul, Mr. Horace Vanney, chief owner of the
International Cloth Mills, had given to Banneker a reprint of an address
by himself, before some philosophical and inquiring society, wherein he
had set forth some of his simpler economic theories. A quotation,
admirably apropos to Banneker's present purposes, flashed forth clear
and pregnant, to his journalistic memory. From the Ledger "morgue" he
selected one of several cuts of Mr. Vanney, and turned it in to the
night desk for publication, with this descriptive note:

Horace Vanney, Chairman of the Board of the International Cloth Company,
Who declares that if working-women are paid more than a bare living wage,
The surplus goes into finery and vanities which tempt them to ruin, Mr.
Vanney's mills pay girls four dollars a week.

Ravenously hungry, Banneker went out to order a long-delayed dinner at
Katie's. Hardly had he swallowed his first mouthful of soup, when an
office boy appeared.

"Mr. Gordon wants to know if you can come back to the office at once."

On the theory that two minutes, while important to his stomach, would
not greatly matter to the managing editor, Banneker consumed the rest of
his soup and returned. He found Mr. Gordon visibly disturbed.

"Sit down, Mr. Banneker," he said.

Banneker compiled.

"We can't use that Sippiac story."

Banneker sat silent and attentive.

"Why did you write it that way?"

"I wrote it as I got it."

"It is not a fair story."

"Every fact--"

"It is a most unfair story."

"Do you know Sippiac, Mr. Gordon?" inquired Banneker equably.

"I do not. Nor can I believe it possible that you could acquire the
knowledge of it implied in your article, in a few hours."

"I spent some time investigating conditions there before I came on the
paper."

Mr. Gordon was taken aback. Shifting his stylus to his left hand, he
assailed severally the knuckles of his right therewith before he spoke.
"You know the principles of The Ledger, Mr. Banneker."

"To get the facts and print them, so I have understood."

"These are not facts." The managing editor rapped sharply upon the
proof. "This is editorial matter, hardly disguised."

"Descriptive, I should call it," returned the writer amiably.

"Editorial. You have pictured Sippiac as a hell on earth."

"