Part 10 (1/2)

”It depends on the importance of the news, and its truthfulness,”

answered the editor, after eying the intruder suspiciously for a moment.

”Thin I've got ye on both counts, though I didn't think ye'd bear down so heavy on its being thrue,” said Pat, advancing confidently.

As the door of the press-room, in which men were at work, stood open, the editor felt no alarm from the sudden appearance of the burly figure before him, but, supposing the man had been drinking, he said impatiently:

”Please state your business briefly, as my time is valuable.”

”If yer time is worth mor'n news, I'll go to another shop,” said Pat stiffly, making a feint of departure.

”That's a good fellow, go along,” chimed in the editor, bending down to his writing again.

Such disastrous acquiescence puzzled Pat for a moment, and he growled, ”No wonder yer prints a paper that's loike a lump o' lead, when 'stead o' lookin' for news yer turns it away from yer doors.”

”Now, look here, my man,” said the editor rising, ”if you have anything to say, say it. If you have been drinking, you will not be permitted to make a row in this office.”

”It's not me, but another man that's been dhrinkin'.”

”Well,” snarled the editor, ”if the other man had the drink, you have the 'drunk,' and if you don't take yourself off, I'll call some men from the press-room who may put you downstairs uncomfortably fast.”

”Hould on a bit,” remonstrated Pat, ”before yer ruffle yer feathers clane over yer head and blinds yer eyes. Wud a man loike Boss Arnot send me, if I was dhrunk, wid a letther at this toime o' night? and wud he send a letther to the superintindent o' the perlice at this toime o' the night to ax him the toime o' day! Afore yer calls yer spalpeens out o'

the press-room squint at that.”

The moment the editor caught sight of the business stamp on Mr. Arnot's letter and the formal handwriting, his manner changed, and he said suavely:

”I beg your pardon--we have misunderstood one another--take a chair.”

”There's been no misunderstandin' on my part,” retorted Pat, with an injured air; ”I've got as dainty a bit o' scandal jist under me tongue as iver ye spiced yer paper wid, and yees thrates me as if I was the inimy o' yer sowl.”

”Well, you see,” said the editor apologetically, ”your not being in our regular employ, Mr.--I beg your pardon--and your coming in this unusual way and hour--”

”But, begorry, somethin' unusual's happened.”

”So I understand; it was very good of you to come to us first; just give me the points, and I will jot them down.”

”But what are yees goin' to give me for the pints?”

”That depends upon what they are worth. News cannot be paid for till we learn its value.”

”Och! here I'm rinnin' a grate risk in tellin' ye at all, and whin I've spilt it all out, and can't pick it up agin, ye may show me the door, and tell me to go 'long wid me rubbish.”

”If you find what you have to report in the paper, you may know it is worth something. So if you will look at the paper to-morrow you can see whether it will be worth your while to call again,” said the editor, becoming impatient at Pat's hesitancy to open his budget.

”But I'm in sore need of a dollar or two to-night. Dade, it's as much as my loife's worth to go home widout 'em.”

”See here, my good friend,” said the editor, rising again and speaking very energetically, ”my time is very valuable, and you have taken considerable of it. Whatever may be the nature of your news, it will not be worth anything to me if you do not tell it at once.”