The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1919-01-30
The Ternpera-
mental Boob
H<D
BY II. 3. KNIGHT
copyright. Mcclure Newspaper syndicats1

editor In chief of the Courier, and
want to see him quick |"
To the utter amazement of the little
boy in knickerbockers who sat in the
hallway leading to the editorial office
of the giant publishing house a tall and
lean visitor, with general dapper ap-
pearance, made the above remark IN
an Indifferent and even bored sort of
tone.
In second the Office boy was on his
feet, and not carelessly leaning back in
his chair, with his feet upon the much
worn and misused, varnish-scratched
table, as though his only concern and
ambition were to shirk and kill time.
"Your card, please" respectfully said
the fawning youngster.
The lanky newcomer looked sur
prised.
"Card?" he queried, unbelevingly.
mo card Tell the editor in chief that
gentleman wishes to see hlm-and
hurry There's no use in my giving
you my card; the editor doesn't know
me, anyway"
Bewildered by the visitors impunity,
the boy looked hlm over from head to
foot. How neat and clean-cut was his
mien! But closer observation re-
vealed that his patrician appearance
was artificial. His clothes were of ex-
pensive texture, indeed, but shiny spots
about the knees betrayed their years
of wear. His shoes were genuine pa
tent feathers, but so much worn that
wrinkles showed even In the profusely
colored tops; and the soles seemed
thinner than paper. To crown 1t all,
linen and hosiery bore the familiar I'M
substantial shade and transparentness
common to all cheap wear; and the
flowing silk" tie came direct from the
window OF a ten-cent store.
Calculating on the "value for gold"
standard, the at first interested urban,
and even servile boy now appeared dis
gruntled. For moment he reyered the
commanding stranger Now he thought
different.
what d'ya think you are?" scoffed
the little ruftian; man or half a man?
The editor wouldn't see anyone with
out first KNOWN his name an learnin'
his business"
Its about some manuscripts" inter
rupted the newcomer, in an agitated,
impatient sort of way.
The boy went on talking nonsense,
the self-confessed writer suffering
acute torture and waiting for seconds
that seemed ages.
"You see, Bud" now a little more
ambitiOusly disposed, once the appar-
ent hauteur of the caller had vanished,
81 almost got canned once for lettin'
in crazy poet that thought he was the
marvel of the world before the boss
could decide whether he (the latter
was in or not"
MAY l see the editor in chlef?"
anew demanded the eager frantic
writer.
Gimme your card. first" repeated
the cruel and heartless urchin.
"Confound i'll" calculated the young
man, Again lose" His voice was
Spiced with pain, sorrow and despair.
Then he drew a deep breath and
Strengthened himself out. Ignoring the
boys reply, he muttered determinedly,
half to the listener and half to him
self:
"Oh, I'll see him somehow
With this pithy resolution in mind he
fastened out of the unfriendly hail. in
to the elevator, down into the dirty
street, and in a few minutes found
himself on Times square, celebrating
by what subway he might get farthest
away from what in his opinion were
narrow minded, hated, exclusive jour
nalists who set their watchdogs, in
person of Office boys, out to hinder
young talent like himself from proving
their art"
But where could he go? Reverend
ing traffic in streams moved down
the streets, and nudging people fiocked
and crowded the sidewalks. He
glanced at the peaceful green of the
square; even there were people After
a half-dozen unkempt boys had offered
to shine his boots for 'jitney" he
managed to make his way to one of
the benches and sat down among dis
tinguished company, consisting of rest
ing business men, habitual "air breath
ers" and ordinary loafers-an ideal at
mosphere, exactly the kind for tenn
peramental tramp or poet.
From above lowered in midst of 9TH
err skyscrapers the redoubtable Singer
building. The youth gazed at its lofti-
ness. His eyes blinked in the binding
radiance of the soaring sun, and he
shrugged his shoulders in absolute dis
gust.
"You are an ASST he exclaimed
"Yep. Bill Wilkins, you're an ass.
You thought you'd be rich some day,
but you're not You thought you'd
have the price of a Singer building,
but you won't. You haven't even got
A girl You're no good-absolutely no
good !"
with this highly encouraging opin-
ION of himself he succeeded in some
what depressing his spirits. In fren-
w, suddenly he snatched n large en-
yelope from an inside coat pocket and
core 1t to shreds. He felt that In do
ing this he had wreaked a horrible
vengeance upon the woodland, real
v, he felt mean with IL.
He dug his hands deem I'm his mock
IT'S and continued broodlng.
"You boob You wanted romance,
Il. Z, ,,,,,, ,,n,,,ya rot a. yop Iaft a f,npd