'No, I'll offer him a few hundred. The old _Gleaner_ plant's worth
something.'
'Of course, there's no harm in that.'
So Mr Boice crossed the street to Hemple's market and laboriously
lifted his great body up the stairway beside it to the quarters of the
_Gleaner_ upstairs, where a coatless, rumpled, rather wild-eyed
McGibbon listened to him and then, with suspiciously, alert and smiling
politeness, showed him out and down again.
4
The sensation struck Henry, full face, in the barber shop, Schütz and
Schwartz's, whither he went from Stanley's. Professor Hennis, of the
English department at the university, met him at the door and insisted
on shaking hands.
'These sketches of yours, Calverly--the two I have read--are remarkable.
There is a freshness of characterisation that suggests Chaucer to me.
Sunbury will live to be proud of you.'
This left Henry red and mumbling, rather dumbfounded.
Then, in the chair, Bill Schwartz--fat, exuberant--said, bending over
him:--
'Well, how does it feel to be famous, Henry?' And added, 'You've got 'em
excited along the street here. Henry Berger says Charlie Waterhouse'll
punch your head before night. Says he'll have to. Can't sue very well.'
It was after this and a few other evidences of the stir he was causing
that Henry, as Humphrey had done a half-hour earlier, went prowling. He
watched and followed the bellowing newsmen. He observed the lively scene
at the depot when the nine-three train pulled out, from the cluttered-up
window of Murphy's cigar store.
Then, keeping off Simpson Street, which was by this time crowded with
the Saturday morning shopping, he slipped around Hemple's corner and up
the stairs.
McGibbon sat alone in the front office--coat off, vest open, longish
hair tousled, a lock straggling down across his high forehead, eyes
strained and staring. He was deep in his swivel chair; long legs
stretched out under the desk, smoking a five-cent cigar, hands deep in
pockets.
He greeted Henry with a wry, thin-lipped smile, and waved his cigar.
'Great days!' he remarked dryly. 'Gee!' Henry dropped into a chair, laid
his bamboo stick on the table, mopped a glistening face. 'Gee! You do
know how to get'em going!'
The cigar waved again.
'Sure! Stir'em up! Soak it to'em! Only way.'
'Everybody's buying it.'
'Rather! You're a hit, son!'
'Oh, I don't know's I'd say that.'
'Rats! You're a knockout. Never been anything like it. Two months of it
and they'd be throwing your name around in Union Square, N.Y. If we only
had the two months.' He sighed.
'Why!' Henry, all nerves, caught his expression. 'What's the matter?'
'We're-out of paper.'
'You mean to print on?'