Evening star., 1938-09-25

edly. He could do it, too if he had any brains,
if he could hit on new publicity angle. Once
he had that, once they had got momentum
again, there would be no stopping Bow and
Sons. They had come through depressions
before.
His eyes were staring out but not focused.
Dimly he realized that the knot of people in
front of the window had grown. A young man
in a polo coat and no hat, accompanied by
another with camera, had stopped before
the window. They were joined by two or
three Others. men of the same type, tired
looking men with eyes that had seen every
thing and believed in nothing much.
why, that's Blake of the Evening Blade"
young Bow said suddenly coming to life.
'And those other birds" he added, puzzled,
look like reporters too"
His grandfather, to his horror, nodded
complacently. "Yes, it's the Press" he said.
That brought his grandson around sharply.
II sent for them, said old Bow, corroborating
his junior partners fear. "You see. l still
think that display is news" Before the
younger man could stop him, old Bow walked
out through the great important doors of Bow
and Sons and threw himself to the wolves on
the outside.
Young Bow wanted to 60 away from there.
He felt ILL., He loved and respected the old
man. He did not want him hurt and humil-
lated by the newspaper mems ridicule, and.
what was more, he did not want Bow and Sons
made fools Of His mind raced, trying to think
of some way to save his grandfather, him.
self, the Firm.
But it was too late Old Bow was out there,
talking, and already young Bow could see the
reporters expressions. "Sore as pups. young
Bow thought. And who can blame them?"
Dragged here on the theory that there was
news story, only to be met with an idea that
hadn't been news since the blizzard of '88!
He would try to see the reporters later and
explain, though they should be able to see for
themselves that this was an old mans feeble
mindedness And then he forgot that
aspect of the affair in his pity. His grand
fathers feeble effort, cast up out of a des-
perate desire to put the Firm back on the
map seemed to him the saddest thing he had
ever witnessed.
He was moving toward the door, impelled
by the necessity to standby, to uphold the
old man, to face the press down. Then sud-
denly, he saw the Evening Blade man start
as if stung and his eyes bulge. And there was
a stir among the reporters like an audible
gasp and young Bow could not think, for
moment, what had happened. He had been
watching his grandfather and still he couldn't
believe it. Then all at once he saw the camera
man excitedly jump into action. manipulating
gadgets and the truth dawned on young Bow:
his grandfather was going to make the front
pages.
Young Bow was out on the sidewalk in the
instant. He wanted to shout, to shout with
laughter. Pride flowed back into him, pride
in the old gentleman's wisdom, pride like
tide rising. The little man! The incredible
little old man!
Mice work. sir! he murmured in the old
gentlemans ear, when he could get anywhere
near him.
II thought it might make story" said old
Bow pridefully.
The crowd was growing larger around
him, scrambling to have a good look; the
newsmen we're eager hounds on the scent of
the bizarre.
Old Bow stood calmly unconcerned. He
watched the crowd sheep, ikeable sheep but
still sheep. So wise, that New York crowd, too
wise to believe its own eyes, too wise to so
much as move finger to prove to themselves