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Updated: June 5, 2025
From the farther end of the room a little squeaky sound was heard, elaborately turned into a cough. Lilias grew hot with embarrassment, and Miss Thacker peered suspiciously over her spectacles as she produced a circular from her satchel and handed it over for inspection. It bore the heading "Waybourne Home for Incurables," and set forth a plea for help with which the girl was already familiar.
I'll drop in again in about two weeks. Good luck!" Colonel Telfair and the magazine promoter shook hands. Returning a fortnight later, Thacker dropped off a very rocky Pullman at Toombs City. He found the January number of the magazine made up and the forms closed. The vacant space that had been yawning for type was filled by an article that was headed thus: SECOND MESSAGE TO CONGRESS Written for
Thacker, and heard him play on the harpsicon, so as I never heard man before, I think. So home, it being almost night, and there find in the garden Pelling, who hath brought Tempest, Wallington, and Pelham, to sings and there had most excellent musick late, in the dark, with great pleasure. Made them drink and eat; and so with much pleasure to bed, but above all with little Wallington.
Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the gold-mines in the country." "You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid. "Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years ago they lost a kid. No, he didn't die although most of 'em here do from drinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even if he wasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it.
All India knew Wressley's name and office it was in Thacker and Spink's Directory but who he was personally, or what he did, or what his special merits were, not fifty men knew or cared. His work filled all his time, and he found no leisure to cultivate acquaintances beyond those of dead Rajput chiefs with Ahir blots in their 'scutcheons.
He was a man about the size of a real-estate agent, with a self-tied tie and a manner that he must have borrowed conjointly from W. J. Bryan, Hackenschmidt, and Hetty Green. He was shown into the editor-colonel's pons asinorum. Colonel Telfair rose and began a Prince Albert bow. "I'm Thacker," said the intruder, taking the editor's chair "T. T. Thacker, of New York."
"It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?" Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house with wide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical foliage on a wooded hill that sloped gently from the sea. "In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and his wife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your pockets with money.
"You are disposed to be facetious," said Colonel Telfair, calmly. "The article is from the pen of a thinker, a philosopher, a lover of mankind, a student, and a rhetorician of high degree." "It must have been written by a syndicate," said Thacker. "But, honestly, Colonel, you want to go slow.
Lilias chose a middle course, and, extracting half a crown from her purse, handed it over with melancholy resignation. "I shall be pleased to give you a small donation, but I would rather my name did not appear in your list. Put it down as from a friend." "Or a Giver a Cheerful Giver!" cried Miss Thacker, with an accent on the adjective which brought the blood into Lilias's cheeks.
Do you care for iguanas, Thacker?" "No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker. It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in his state of beatitude. "It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an ugly look on his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square.
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