Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1903-01-23
THE EIGHTH PACE.

and surveyed "a copy of the last edi
ton. The click of the type machines
had died away in the distance and
from the bowels of the building came
the far-on grumble of the press as
it quickened to life the cold white
rolls of paper.
The managing editors mouth droop-
ed at the corners, the straight line of
his eyebrows broke into an arch and
his whole countenance spoke of weary
satisfaction. For the front page was
a miracle of makeup; the big strike
story was sure beat" and the eXclu-
sive interview with the Man of the
Hour looked eminently satisfactory in
double-leads and occasional black let
ter. 1t seemed to him worth all the
maddening rush and nervewrecking
strain of the last half hour, and he
lighted a fresh cigar with the virtu-
Gus air of man who is conscious of
having done well-a little more than
his duty.
\ dirty copy-boy sprawled in a
corner awaiting the great mans ord
ers and improving his mind mean
while by an earnest study of the sport
ing page. The inSy urchin's irrever-
ent. but cautious. whistle completed
rather than disturbed. the general air
of peace which hung over the dingy
room and the rustic of the pages as
they turned in the managing editors
fingers set the echoes whispering in
the darkness out beyond the glow of
the green-shaded electric light.
Suddenly the managing editors face
lost its air of tired contentment. and
he leaned forward with a look of
horror freezing itself into every fea.
ture He clutched the printed leaves
on either side. and brought his head
down almost to a level with the desk
then he leaped to his feet and his
heavy chair crashed into the wall at
his back Upon consideration it
would not be well to quote the Chiefs
words as the office-boy heard them.
In the first place no reputable printer
would consent to set the copy, and
secondly. the managing editors prof.
cheney in the use of emphatic Ian
guage was such that to attempt to re
duce his utterance to mere type were
to do him a gross injustice.
Thirty seconds later the press room
was startled by wild-eyed apparl
ton of the boss" 1t was waving
a copy of the paper and crying pull
up! for Gods sake, pull up" or some
hand was on the lever in flash The
great wheels came to a standstill and
the pressman, with a whats the
matter, sir?" on his grimy lips. hur-
ried to the managing editors side.
"The eight page! the eight page!
Take it off! Quick! Do you hear;
take it Off" said the apparition, in
a voice somewhere between gasp
and a scream. "Send for Foley; send
to the composing room for Foley
The stereotype plate slipped from
it's roller in an instant. and the manag-
Il ing editor was regarding it with sim
cere and soul-stirrng profanity as the
foreman of the composing room hur-
ried up Foley thought that his chief
was choking as he pointed with
trembling finger to paragraph under
the heading Society and said:
Get the form and take this out.
Kill it! Never mind sending it up
stairs, tell you. Get the stuff and
do it down here" Foley vanished.
"How many have you run? How long
have they been on the street,"
They've been on the town for half
an hour, sir" said the pressman.
might have known it," groaned the
head; Just my luck. o." Even
the press room shuddered.
Foley located the doomed para
graph. plucked it out, re-spaced and
locked the form long before the press
room had recovered its composure. or
the chief his breath.
"What in hell struck the boss.
wonder" he growled to himself, as. he
saw the eXpurgated page on its way to
the stereotyping room. Then he
picked up the five metal lines which
he had just KILLED" and read:
1T is rumored among the members
of the East Kensngton set that the
announcement of the engagement of
Miss Evelyn Blythe, the beautiful and
talented daughter of ex-senator John
G. Blythe, to one of the city's best
known journalists is not many days
distant"
well, I'm damned" murmured Fol
ey, for want of some more appro-
pirate remark. He saw nothing in
the innocent-looking bit of society
slush" to explain the situation. But
Foley was a serious man, who chewed
tobacco and lacked imagination.
There were certain wishes eX-
pressed in the chiefs room within
the next half hour concerning the NOR
tai and immortal career of the socie.
no elfin spirit of dreamland undertook
to whisper these same wishes to the
man whom they most concerned, else
it is possible that his slumbers would
have lost that sweetness which is
born of a clear conscience Mrs.
Vail, too, doing among the carriage
cushions as she drove home from the
dance, was blissfully ignorant of the
fact that tall, athletic-looking young
man was at that moment thinking of
her fat, white throat and experiencing
the while an itching sensation in his
fingers.
Stopping now and then to admins.
ter vicious kick to the waste basket
or to drive the points of the desk
scissors into the woodwork, the
managing editor paced the floor of
his narrow lair. relieving his mind
He remembered only too well that
tea to which he had gone because
he felt he was sure to-. But he
didn't want to think of that now Mrs
Vail had waylaid him-fat but kit
tenish. Mrs. Vail, whose figure had
departed with the last generation. but
whose youthful manner had survived