Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-12-07
THE THRASHING OF THE EDITOR
By HENRY sYDNoR HARRISON

81 am sure John will think It a pleas
ure to get you a card to the floor"
oh, yes! Old John will certainly do
that"
ut is our annual Horse Show bail, you
know, and we consider 1t very splendid"
II can think of nothing" observed the
editor, that would induce me to miss
Silence in the tea garden.
Gould l." said the editor-"might 1
dare to trespass so far as toto beg
that you will dance with me?"
She looked up, and for the first time
| smiled. Though the editor had seen
many in his day, It had never before oc-
CURED to him that a smile could be so
glorously decorative.
And yet we say" unused She that
you Northern men move slowly-well! DO
you think 1t would be Just the thing
tell mc-when | don't even knew
She turned, checked by noise. The
rosedoor behind her opened, and the icy
| young face of the fiction writer appeared
there for trice. 1t instantly lodged
back, apparently to issue warnings to
somebody behind him, but in n breath 1t
reappeared, bringing along the remainder
of the stern young mans personality
'Will you be good enough to excuse us
for a few moments, Diana?' he said
frostily. Il have some particular busi-
ness with this gentleman"
"Of COURSE" said she.
And turning look upon the editor, she
| was gone in a flash.
Mr.. Adams strolled away, and his eyes
went off through the loose roof of roses,
and lost themselves In the azure round.
"Diana! Dianal" he cried to himself.
| GLORY halelujah, her names Diana"'
But his raptures were summarily cut
| short by the entrance OF the lighting
| party. The editor recalled himself
/ turned, looked, and his heart bounded.
For a minute and a half, young Mr..
| Adams had been much worried by his
/ necessity of pummeling Miss Diana Mar
! shall's brother. Now he saw, with sin
| cere relief, that unless he looked alive
! such pummeling as took place that day
| bade fair to be induged in on the other
| side of the fence. Behind John Marshall
| advanced one OF the biggest men ever
seen. a great black-halred Hercules, in
! sleeveless jersey and running trousers.
| who without an ounce of fat, must have
| weighed close to 220 pounds. The face OF
| this man was not deliCately patrician like
| his literary brothers; but here, plainly,
| had gone all that overplus of Marshall
/ bone and muscle which ruthless nature
| had withheld from John. He had chest
| like hogshead, and the hands that hung
| down his sides reminded you on the spot
of a couple of shoulders of mutton.
Businesslike were the introductions:
! Mr. Frederick Marshall, Mr.. Adams; Mr..
| Landsdowne Colfax. Mr.. Adams The
! brother grinned family and ducked his
| huge dark head. Mr.. ColfaX CMr. Adams
second) advanced and resolutely clasped
| the editorial hand. 1t was a heroic thing.
that handclasp a Spartan sacrifice the
! second was making on behalf of the
gentlemanly amenities that summer morn
, ing. For tall, thin Mr.. Colfax was a
poet; and Ito be brieO his collection of
rejection slips was already one of the
| largest in America.
The editor strolled about the garden
| close. leaving professional details to the
| seconds, drinking in the beauties of the
| scene. His wandering eye noted one
| window in the house. high up in the
| time-softened tower, which fairly COM
manded the secluded scene of the fray.
| He wondered IL haply goddess face
might lurk there behind the swaying
curtain, and decided in the negative.
| Thus he unwittinEly confirmed another
| favorite hypothesis of John MarshalPs 8,
! viz: that editors are very poor deciders
At the call of Mr.. Colfax. the tall poet
Mr. Adams came to attention. In view
of the mutual desire for prompt and de-
cisive results, II was agreed that al
rounds and intermissions should be dis
pensed with, and that the ring should
be the whole tea garden. Otherwise, the
regulations laid down by the late famous
| Marquis should be adhered to.
The particular business OF the day was
/ thereupon proceeded with. The two
strong young men went willingly to work
to determine by the ordeal OF Homeric
battle and for all time. whether or no a
New York editor could keep n Berkeley
manuscript seven weeks and then reject
1t with printed slip.
CONTINUED TOMORROW