as I keep
a free pen and speak as I believe for what I hold as right and against
what I hold as wrong, I can afford to leave the advertising policy to
those who control it. It isn't my responsibility.... It's an omen, Io; I
was waiting for it. Marrineal and I are at a deadlock on the question of
my control of the editorial page. This ought to furnish a fighting
issue. I'm glad it came from you."

"Oh, but if it's going to make trouble for you, I shall be sorry. And I
was going to propose that we write one every Saturday."

"Io!" he cried. "Does that mean--"

"It means that I shall become a regular attendant at Mr. Errol
Banneker's famous Saturday nights. Don't ask me what more it means." She
rose and delivered the typed sheets into his hands. "I--I don't know,
myself. Take me back to the others, Ban."

To Banneker, wakened next morning to a life of new vigor and sweetness,
the outcome of the mail-order editorial was worth not one troubled
thought. All his mind was centered on Io.

CHAPTER VII

Explosions of a powerful and resonant nature followed the publication of
the fantastic, imaginative, and delightful mail-order catalogue
editorial. In none of these senses, except the first, did it appeal to
the advertising managers of the various department stores. They looked
upon it as an outrage, an affront, a deliberate slap in the face for an
established, vested, and prodigal support of the newspaper press. What
the devil did The Patriot mean by it; The Patriot which sorely needed
just their class of reputable patronage, and, after sundry contortions
of rate-cutting, truckling, and offers of news items to back the
advertising, was beginning to get it? They asked themselves, and,
failing of any satisfactory answer, they asked The Patriot in no
uncertain terms. Receiving vague and pained replies, they even went to
the length of holding a meeting and sending a committee to wait upon the
desperate Haring, passing over the advertising manager who was a mere
figurehead in The Patriot office.

Then began one of those scenes of bullying and browbeating to which
every newspaper, not at once powerful and honest enough to command the
fear and respect of its advertisers, is at some time subjected. Haring,
the victim personifying the offending organ, was stretched upon the rack
and put to the question. What explanation had he to offer of The
Patriot's breach of faith?

He had none, had the miserable business manager. No