"I am. Do you wish to subscribe?"
"I have already written something for your paper," Harry continued.
"Indeed!" said the editor. "Was it poetry or prose?"
Harry felt flattered by the question. To be mistaken for a poet he
felt to be very complimentary. If he had known how much trash weekly
found its way to the "Standard" office, under the guise of poetry, he
would have felt less flattered.
"I have written some essays over the name of 'Franklin,'" he hastened
to say.
"Ah, yes, I remember, and very sensible essays too. You are young to
write."
"Yes, sir; I hope to improve as I grow older."
By this time Oscar felt impelled to speak for his friend. It seemed
to him that Harry was too modest.
"My friend is assistant editor of a New Hampshire paper,--'The
Centreville Gazette,'" he announced.
"Indeed!" said the editor, looking surprised. "He is certainly young
for an editor."
"My friend is not quite right," said Harry, hastily. "I am one of
the compositors on that paper."
"But you write editorial paragraphs," said Oscar.
"Yes, unimportant ones."
"And are you, too, an editor?" asked the editor of the "Standard,"
addressing Oscar with a smile.
"Not exactly," said Oscar; "but I am an editor's son. Perhaps you
are acquainted with my father,--John Vincent of this city."
"Are you his son?" said the editor, respectfully.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183