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Updated: May 16, 2025
This he sealed and addressed in a stamped envelope: then thrust his pen into a raw but none the less antique potato; covered the red and black inkwells; closed the ledger; locked the petty-cash box and put it away; painstakingly arranged the blotters, paste-pot, and all the clerical paraphernalia of his desk; and slewed round on his stool to blink pensively at Mr. Bross.
Mike opens it, and when he sees who it is he hits her with his fist and knocks her down and shuts the door. "And then the crowd kept on chunkin' her till she run clear out of town. And the next day they finds her drowned dead in Hunter's mill pond. I mind it all now. That was thirty year ago." I leaned back in my non-rotary revolving chair and nodded gently, like a mandarin, at my paste-pot.
We call the bill-sticker 'Paste-pot, and the fisherman 'Crab. The waiter is called 'Thomas' in the café, but when a letter comes for him it is in another name. Then, on the second floor by the way, Marie, who is it that lives on the second floor?" Edith with difficulty restrained her excitement.
The marine editor sits back rigidly in his chair. The head quakes, the tongue plays, he looks defiantly at the night editor. "She's coming," says the assistant telegraph editor, holding down his shears and paste-pot. The head quakes, but it is not a sneeze. It is a deliverance, ex cathedra. The night editor wants to hear it. "You bet your sweet life, Mrs.
I had thought to be the first arrival, but I was not. A girl was already bending over her paste-pot, and the revelers of the "Ladies' Moonlight Pleasure Club" came straggling in by twos and threes.
When I reached the office I made straight for Blackie's smoke-filled sanctum. When my tale was ended he let me cry all over his desk, with my head buried in a heap of galley-proofs and my tears watering his paste-pot. He sat calmly by, smoking. Finally he began gently to philosophize. "Now girl, he's prob'ly better off there than he ever was at home with his mother soused all the time.
With a cheerful nod he was gone, and she heard him saying to the man at the next table: "Mr. Clifford, I shall have to ask you to be more careful about getting in promptly at eight." She removed the cover from her paste-pot and dabbled a little on a piece of paper. Then she tried the unwieldy shears on another piece of paper.
It sent me scuttling across the hall to the sporting editor's smoke-filled room. And there on a chair beside the desk, surrounded by scrap-books, lead pencils, paste-pot and odds and ends of newspaper office paraphernalia, sat Bennie. His hair was parted very smoothly on one side, and under his dimpled chin bristled a very new and extremely lively green-and-red plaid silk tie.
"Volney," he asked, "does this talk of an independent movement against Ross Shelby amount to anything?" Sprague's eye lit. "It's gathering headway every minute," he declared. "We require just one thing a candidate of prominence and backbone." Graves reached past the paste-pot to capture a fugitive match. "What do you say to me?" "What do I say!"
A strange requiem, you may say, over the body of a fallen, comrade; but if Jimmy Hayes could have heard it he would have understood. I sat an hour by sun, in the editor's room of the Montopolis Weekly Bugle. I was the editor. The saffron rays of the declining sunlight filtered through the cornstalks in Micajah Widdup's garden-patch, and cast an amber glory upon my paste-pot.
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