at the character
of the work you're doing. It's fully up to the best traditions of the
_Post_, and that strikes me as quite a feat for a man of your years."

Because he was pleased at this tribute, Queed answered briefly, and at
once changed the subject. But he did it maladroitly by expressing the
hope that things were going well with Mr. West.

"Well, not hardly," said West, and gave his pleasant laugh. "You may
possibly have noticed from our esteemed afternoon contemporary that I'm
in a very pretty little pickle. But by the way," he added, with entire
good humor, "the _Post_ doesn't appear to have noticed it after all."

"No," said Queed, slowly, not pretending to misunderstand. He hesitated,
a rare thing with him. "The fact is I could not write what you would
naturally wish to have written, and therefore I haven't written anything
at all."

West threw up his hands in mock horror. "Here's another one! Come on,
fellers! Kick him!--he's got no friends! You know," he laughed, "I
remind myself of the man who stuck his head in at the teller's window,
wanting to have a check cashed. The teller didn't know him from Adam.
'Have you any friends here in the city?' asked he. 'Lord, no!' said the
stranger; 'I'm the weather man.'"

Queed smiled.

"And I was only trying in my poor way," said West, mournfully, "to
follow the advice that you, young man, roared at me for a column on the
fatal morning."

"I've regretted that," said Queed. "Though, of course, I never looked
for any such developments as this. I was merely trying to act on Colonel
Cowles's advice about always playing up local topics. You are doubtless
familiar with his dictum that the people are far more interested in a
cat-fight at Seventh and Centre Streets than in the greatest exploits of
science."

West laughed and rose to go. Then a good-natured thought struck him.
"Look here," said he, "this must be a great load, with the Colonel
away--doing all of three columns a day by yourself. How on earth do you
manage it?"

"Well, I start work at eight o'clock in the morning."

"And what time does that get you through?"

"Usually in time to get to press with it."

"Oh, I say! That won't do at all. You'll break yourself down, playing
both ends against the middle like that. Let me help you out, won't you?
Let me do something for you right now?"

"If you really feel like it," said Queed, remembering how the Colonel
welcomed Mr. West's occasional contributions to