BARRED TO HIM
Herbert sat in the darkened room with his head bowed on the table for
a very long while, thinking of the events that had taken place the
previous twenty-four hours. First he was angry with himself for what
he had done, and then felt humiliated at permitting Blakeley to abuse
him in such a cruel manner; but with second thought came the conviction
that even if he had it to go over again he would not have acted in a
different manner. To have written the story even with Arthur at liberty
would have meant lasting disgrace to Mary Black and her parents. He had
paid a very dear price, but had averted that, which after all, was a
very consoling thing. While he sat there Tomlin came into the room in
his impetuous manner. He rushed over to Herbert and clapped him on the
shoulders.
“Brace up, old man; don’t sit here and mope as if you had lost your
last friend in the world.”
Herbert looked up at him and tried to smile; but the effort was a very
sickly one.
Tomlin sat down beside his friend, and becoming serious, said:
“See here, old chap, I don’t want to pry into your affairs, but why in
the world did you throw Blakeley down in that cold-blooded fashion?”
“I didn’t throw Blakeley down,” began Herbert angrily.
But the other man held up his hand to stay the hot words, and replied
in a low voice:
“But you did throw him down, and there is no possible way of proving
anything to the contrary. Now you must have had a reason, and if you
care to give it to me, I’ll be glad to listen.”
“I hope you won’t consider me rude, or lacking in friendship,” replied
Herbert; “but really the circumstances make it impossible for me to
tell you why I acted as I did.”
“All right, old fellow,” rejoined Tomlin, slapping Herbert on the back
again; “I am satisfied whether you tell me or not. I believe in you and
that is sufficient.”
Shortly before noon the following day Herbert went to the office of
the New York Sentinel and presented his card to the city editor. That
individual sat in his roll-top chair and gazed at the bit of pasteboard
musingly:
“So you want a job, do you? Well, I have heard of your name before, and
I understand that you have done some creditable work. I might make a
place for you here--”
“Could you?” inquired Herbert eagerly; “I’m sure if you would give me
the chance I’d make good.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said the city editor. Then as if the thought had
just struck him: “By the way, how did you come to leave the Argus?”
Herbert flushed up at this, and the fact did not escape the attention
of the keen-witted city editor of the Sentinel. He scrutinized his
visitor with a steady eye. Herbert hesitated for some seconds, and then
said slowly:
“Well, to tell the truth, that is a personal matter that I cannot
explain.”
“All right,” said the other slowly, “that rests with you entirely.”
“Can I have the position?” inquired Herbert.
“Well,” said the other, rubbing his hand over his face and speaking
slower than before, “I think you had better come in and see me again in
the course of a day or so.”
This was not very satisfactory, but Herbert had to make the best of it.
He returned to his room for the purpose of writing some letters and
later on took a walk. Two days after this incident he called at the
Sentinel office, but found, to his disappointment, that the city editor
was out of the city. Another day elapsed, and this time the man he was
in search of was at his desk.
“Do you find that you will be able to employ me on the Sentinel?” asked
Herbert.
“No,” said the city editor decidedly; “no, I cannot find room for you.”
“Is there any special reason for that decision?” asked Herbert with a
sinking sensation in the region of the heart.
“Well,” yawned the city editor, stretching his arms over his head, “I
don’t know that I should answer that question; but I will say that
I had a talk with Blakeley, the city editor of the Argus, yesterday
afternoon. You can draw your own conclusions.”
Herbert did, and found that the conclusions were not very flattering to
himself. In the course of the next two weeks he visited the local rooms
of nearly every important newspaper in the city; but everywhere he met
with the same experience. In short, he found himself blacklisted.
In the meantime he made every effort to preserve a cheerful demeanor.
He wrote long letters home to his mother, but never mentioned the grave
disaster which had overwhelmed him and which threatened to blight his
future newspaper life. Fortunately he possessed a small sum of money
which was on deposit in the saving fund. He had been prudent and
thrifty from the time of his arrival in New York, and as a consequence
was able to save small amounts of money in addition to the allowance
which he sent to his mother with religious regularity. He drew this out
now, and counting it over carefully found that, if necessary, it would
be sufficient to pay his expenses for a month or so. But after all a
month, and even two months pass very rapidly to a poor man who sees no
immediate prospect of earning money. He noted with dismay that a whole
week had been lost in his fruitless negotiations with the Sentinel,
and that a longer period of time had passed by during the time he was
applying to the other newspapers.
At this period he received a letter from Noah Brooks, saying that Mr.
Anderson had told him of the big beat upon which he was working for the
Argus, and wanting to know whether he had been able to carry it to a
successful conclusion. The letter annoyed him, even coming from such an
old and valued friend as the editor of the Cleverly Banner. However,
he sent a courteous reply to his old friend, expressing regret at his
failure to distinguish himself upon that particular piece of work.
Mr. Anderson, his former teacher, hearing that he had separated from
the service of the Argus, called on him one evening.
“I am awfully sorry to hear this, Herbert, and I half suspect that it
is the result of a quarrel with Blakeley.”
“Yes,” assented Herbert with a half smile, “there is no doubt about
that. Blakeley quarreled all right. I think it was a one-sided quarrel;
but there is no use in discussing it now.”
“But there is use,” insisted the other; “I’ll go to see Blakeley at
once and have this matter straightened out.”
Herbert put a detaining hand on his arm, and said with great
earnestness:
“Please don’t do anything of the kind.”
“But I will,” cried the other.
“But you must not,” corrected Herbert; “if you carry out your good
intentions you will do me a great deal of harm. If you are really a
friend of mine, I beg of you to stay away from the Argus office.”
“But, my young man,” said the teacher, “you are entirely too young to
be so self opinionated. You should not have quarreled with Blakeley. It
would have been much better if you had bent your will to his.”
Herbert shook his head sadly. He was silent for a few moments, and then
said with much gravity:
“You mean very well, but you cannot mend matters in this instance.”
Mr. Anderson left the house looking very forlorn. He was anxious to
help Herbert, and keenly felt his inability to do so.
Tomlin had been sent out on an assignment that took him to a remote
part of the State. He remained away for a week, and Herbert was alone
during all that period. Tomlin returned unexpectedly one evening,
very anxious to hear the latest news regarding his friend and the
papers. Herbert came in late that night. His white face, drooping mouth
and hopeless eyes told their own story to Tomlin. However he tried
to disguise the feeling that was within him, and said with assumed
cheerfulness:
“Well, old boy, how have you made out in my absence? Have you tried any
of the other papers?”
“Yes,” said Herbert, “I have.”
“Which one?”
“Everyone,” said Herbert with a bitter smile, “at least everyone that
is worth considering.”
“Well, what are your prospects?”
“I have no prospects.”
“No prospects--not even in the future?”
“No,” retorted Herbert, the anger in his heart making him raise his
voice to a high pitch; “not even in the future. To be plain with
you, Tomlin, they all know about the circumstances under which I
left the Argus, and they refuse to have anything to do with me. I am
blacklisted. Do you understand that? I am blacklisted, and a disgraced
man.”
The tone of Herbert’s voice no less than what he said shocked Tomlin
very much; but he made no reply, and the two friends sat there for many
minutes staring mutely at each other.