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Updated: May 28, 2025
Blankinship and read Isaiah at a gulp. Then he had sought out his boys and bantered them on their new clothes. Margaret sat very still for a long time after the interview with her father. She knew that Bul, whom she loved best of her brothers, was going to be killed.
Orde be here either?" said Aladdin. "No; he's home in bed. You're editor-in-chief and everything else for the day, see? And I wish I was dead." Mr. Blankinship nodded, very slightly, for it hurt, and went out. The misery of others is a great cure: with the first sight of Mr.
And some of the more clownish of the young people called for Author, Author. Aladdin hung his head. At supper at the St. Johns' later was a crisp, brisk gentleman with grayish hair, who talked in a pleasant, dry way. Aladdin learned that it was Mr. Blankinship, editor and proprietor of the Portland "Spy." Almost immediately on learning this important item, he saw Mr.
Blankinship smiled cheerfully. "Pretty entertainment, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "Well, O'Brien, see you Monday; hope we get on." Mr. Blankinship nodded pleasantly and passed up the room to the punch, muttering as he went, "Writes better than talks dash of genius more or less timid than a coot." Aladdin went quickly to find Margaret.
Blankinship exchange a word with Margaret and come toward him. "Mr. O'Brien?" "Yes, sir." "The same that sent us three poems a while ago?" "Yes, sir." "And you wrote that song we heard to-night?" "Yes, sir." Aladdin was now fiery red. "What do you do for a living?" "I've just finished school," said Aladdin. "And I don't know what to do." "Newspaper work appeal to you?" "Yes, sir."
Aladdin thought over these things with pleasure, for he had fallen under the dangerous flattery of older men, and with less pleasure of the editorial which it was his immediate business to write. His brisk, crisp chief, Mr. Blankinship, came in for a moment, walking testily and looking like the deuce. "So you've showed up, Aladdin, have you?" he said. "That's young blood.
If any question of politics I mean policy arises, I leave it absolutely to you. I'm going back to bed. Can't you stop smoking that rotten cigar?" Aladdin laughed aloud, and Mr. Blankinship endeavored to smile. "Somewhere," he said, "in this transcendentally beautiful continent, Aladdin, there may be some one that feels worse than I do, but I doubt it." He turned to go. "Won't Mr.
Blankinship was leaning against the post of the street door, reading his own editorial in the morning issue. "Hallo, Mr. Blankinship!" cried Aladdin. "Hallo, Aladdin!" cried Mr. Blankinship, grinning at his favorite. "Late as usual." "And for the last time, sir." "I know of only one good reason for such a statement." "It's it, sir!" Mr. Blankinship folded his paper carefully.
"Timid as a coot," thought Mr. Blankinship. "Write easily?" he said. "Fast short words?" Aladdin thought a moment. "Yes, sir," he said coolly. "Less timid than a coot," thought Mr. Blankinship. "Willing to live in Portland?" "Yes, sir." "I'll give you five dollars a week and give you a trial." "Thank you, sir." "Can you get moved and start work Monday?" "Yes, sir." Mr.
Arrived at Portland, he was driven to the house of his old friend Mr. Blankinship, and helped to bed. Next morning he was seized with acute pains in the region of the heart, and though his valiant mind refused for a single moment to tolerate the thought that the end might be near, was persuaded to send for his daughter and his sons. Margaret was in the parlor with Aladdin.
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