s from the
populace, through just such deadly swindling as that which had been
lighted up by the flaring exploitation of the oil torches fifteen years
before. Could any good come from such a stock? He decided to talk it out
with Esme, sure that her fastidiousness would turn away from the ugly
truth.

Meantime, the girl was making a toilet of vast and artful simplicity
wherewith to enrapture the eye of the beholder. The first profound
effect thereof was wrought upon Reginald Currier, alias "Bim," some
fifteen minutes later, at the outer portals of the "Clarion" office.

"Hoojer wanter--" he began, and then glanced up. Almost as swiftly as he
had aforetime risen under Hal's irate and athletic impulsion, the
redoubtable Bim was lifted from his seat by the power of Miss Elliot's
glance. "Gee!" he murmured.

The Great American Pumess, looking much more like a very innocent, soft,
and demurely playful kitten, accepted this ingenuous tribute to her
charms with a smile. "Good-morning," she said. "Is Mr. Surtaine in?"

"Same t'you," responded the courteous Mr. Currier. "Sure he is. Walk
this way, maddim!"

They found the editor at his desk. His absorbed expression brightened
as he jumped up to greet his visitor.

"You!" he cried.

Esme let her hand rest in his and her glance linger in his eyes, perhaps
just a little longer than might have comported with safety in one less
adept.

"How is the paper going?" she inquired, taking the chair which he pulled
out for her.

"Completely to the dogs," said Hal.

"No! Why I thought--"

"You haven't given any advice to the editor for six whole days," he
complained. "How can you expect an institution to run, bereft of its
presiding genius? Is it your notion of a fair partnership to stay away
and let your fellow toilers wither on the bough? I only wonder that the
presses haven't stopped."

"Would this help at all?" The visitor produced from her shopping-bag the
written announcement of the Recreation Club play.

"Undoubtedly it will save the day. Lost Atlantis will thrill to hear,
and deep-sea cables bear the good news to unborn generations. What is
it?"

She frowned upon his levity. "It is an interesting item, a _very_
interesting item of news," she said impressively.

"Bring one in every day," he directed: "in person. We can't trust the
mails in matters of such vital import." And scrawling across the copy a
single hasty word in pencil, he thrust it into a wire box.

"Wh