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"Why, I I believe the verdict isn't rendered yet," he hastily replied, and followed Mr. Merrick into the pressroom. "Now, then," cried Patsy, grabbing the major firmly, "you'll not stir a step, sir, until you tell us the news!" "What news, Patricia?" Inquired the old gentleman blandly. "Who was Thursday Smith?" "The identical individual he is now," said the Major. "Don't prevaricate, sir!
Two men were at a side window of the pressroom, which they had just succeeded in opening. As Hetty gained her point of observation one of the men slipped inside, but a moment later hastily reappeared and joined his fellow. At once both turned and stole along the side of the shed directly toward the place where the girl stood.
"What is your name?" he asked. Another moment's hesitation. "Call me Smith, please." "First name?" The man smiled. "Thursday," he said. All his hearers seemed astonished at this peculiar name, but Mr. Merrick said abruptly: "Follow me, Thursday Smith." The man obeyed, and the girls and Arthur trotted after them back to the pressroom. "Our pressman has deserted us without warning," explained Mr.
Often at midnight Hetty would wander into the pressroom and watch Thursday Smith run off the edition on the wonderful press, which seemed to possess an intelligence of its own, so perfectly did it perform its functions. At such times she sat listlessly by and said little, for Thursday was no voluble talker, especially when busied over his press.
Just as regularly as the world rolls 'round the press rolls out the newspaper, and human life or death makes little difference to either of the revolutionists." While he spoke the Major led the way across the room to the stereotyping plant, which brought his party to a position near the press. Smith glanced at them and went on with his work. It was not unusual to have the pressroom thus invaded.
Then presently he and Kasheed joined the others upon the sidewalk, and, the rolls of paper having been delivered inside the pressroom, the four Syrians climbed upon the truck and drove to the restaurant of Ghabryel & Assad two blocks farther north, where they had a bit of awamat, coffee and cigarettes, and then played a game of cards, while in the attic of the tenement house Eset el Gazzar munched a mouthful of hay and tapped her interior reservoir for a drink of clear water, as she sighed through her valvelike nostrils and pouted with her cushioned lips, pondering upon the vagaries of quadrupedal existence.
Then the foreman locks up the forms and bangs them on the face with his big wooden plane, and he and the old man lug them out into the pressroom while we all hold our breath sometimes the form explodes on the way and then we don't get the Democrat for three days. "She's out, boys," he says. Then we grab copies and hurry to spread the news of the birth of another Democrat.
The stairs to the lowest floor were even narrower than the others had been. It led to a pressroom that seemed to be one mass of motion and noise. Mr. Nelson proved to be a pleasant man of perhaps fifty. "Had any experience?" he asked, after Richard had announced his errand. "No, sir; but I think I can learn as quickly as anybody."
A pressman had just returned to work after a protracted spree. His face was battered, an eye was blackened, and an ear showed a tendency to mushroom. The night of his return was one on which Mr. Bennett visited the pressroom. He saw Mr. Bennett before Mr. Bennett saw him, and, daubing a handful of ink on his face, he became so busy that Bennett noticed him.
Hearing voices in the pressroom, the sempstress hastened down the stairs, and found herself in a long passage, in the centre of which was a glass door, opening on that part of the garden reserved for the superior.
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