CHAPTER XIII HERBERT MAKES A HIT AND TIDES OVER A TEMPORARY FINANCIAL

DIFFICULTY

Herbert was still young enough to be sensitive, and the thought that his maiden effort in the big city had probably found its way into the waste paper basket was galling to his natural pride. However, he braced himself and called at the office at noon again, and smilingly greeted his colleagues. He learned some things during the day, and one was a conviction that success on a country newspaper did not necessarily fit a man for immediate employment on a metropolitan daily. He had a long and confidential talk with Frank Tomlin, during the course of which he related his experience and the fate of his first item.

Tomlin laughed heartily at the recital.

“You can’t afford to be thin-skinned in New York, my boy,” he replied. “Besides, you are mistaken about your item. It was written all right, but was crowded out in the make-up.”

“Do you think so?”

“I am satisfied of it. I have helped Blakeley to make up the paper on more than one occasion, and there were times when stories bigger and more important than yours and which were in type were thrown aside for want of space. So don’t let a little thing like that trouble you. Persevere; do the best you can, and don’t permit yourself to be cast down by little incidents of this kind.”

Herbert thanked him for this friendly advice and promised to profit by it. The talk caused Tomlin to drift into a train of reminiscences.

“I’ll never forget my first experience in the newspaper business in this city,” he said musingly; “it satisfied me that enterprise, while quite valuable in itself, is not the most important thing in the gathering of news. I know that when I began I was eager to accomplish great things.

“One morning the city editor assigned me to a meeting of the Municipal League, and as I was leaving the room he called out:

“‘See here, I want you to put a little ginger in your articles. We want to brighten the paper up a bit.’

“It was a prosy gathering. Most of the members of the league were elderly or old men, and they made long winded speeches and accomplished little business. There did not seem to be much prospect of a bright article in the ordinary report of a meeting of this character. I decided to burlesque the meeting. The result was all that could be desired. The city editor was not ‘on’ and the story went straight to the copy desk.

“The next morning I was informed the proprietor wanted to see me. I felt at once that this summons had something to do with my article. When I entered the room, he looked at me curiously and in silence for some moments.

“‘Did you write the meeting of the Municipal League which appears in this morning’s paper?’

“‘I did,’ I answered, swelling up with pride.

“He was silent.

“‘Didn’t you like the report?’ I finally inquired.

“‘Yes,’ he said, prolonging the word in a strange manner.

“‘Wasn’t it good enough?’ I inquired.

“‘Oh, yes,’ with a peculiar laugh; ‘it was bright.’ Then turning to me he said impressively: ‘I have no doubt in the world that the members of the league deserve all the ridicule you cast on them, but,’ he added, ‘it should not have been printed in my paper. I am the president of the Municipal League.’”

Herbert and Tomlin remained in conversation for a long while, and the older man regaled his companion with a batch of very interesting stories bearing upon the incidents that take place behind the scenes of journalism. They walked home together that night, and Herbert, feeling that Tomlin was a man in whom he could trust and confide, confessed to him the low condition of his finances.

“I thought I would get immediate employment,” he said, “and as a consequence brought only a small amount of money with me from the country. I met an old acquaintance who was on his uppers and gave him a large part of my surplus. As the result of this and my other little expenditures, I have only about two dollars.”

“Do you want to borrow anything?” said the other, turning to him quickly; “I will be glad to stake you if you do.”

“Not at all,” said Herbert hastily, “I hope you won’t think I introduced the subject for that purpose. But it will be about ten days before I receive my first pay; and in the meantime next week’s board bill will be due and payable. I wondered whether I could not earn a little money in the meantime.”

“Certainly,” said Tomlin; “it will give you an opportunity for showing what is in you, too. The thing is easy enough. Write some space for the Argus. Blakeley is always willing to accept a good story, and if you can go out into this human whirlpool to-morrow and fish up something a little bit out of the ordinary he will be only too glad to print it, and pay you for it, too.”

The following day, acting on the suggestion of his friend, Herbert made the rounds of the city hospitals. The usual routine stories presented themselves at all of these institutions; but most of them were covered by staff men, and for that reason were not available for a special space-writer. While Herbert was pondering over what was best to do under the circumstances, it suddenly dawned on him that perhaps the obvious thing might make the best story after all. Things that were happening every day in the week were looked upon as being trite and trivial. If he could take one of these incidents and lift it out of the rut and make it stand toweringly above other incidents of a like character he would make a hit. To think was to act. He went to the head keeper in the next hospital and asked to look over the book of records. Among the items inscribed there was one which told about a patient who had attempted suicide, but whose life would be saved. Herbert asked whether he could obtain the details of this story, and was told that if he applied to one of the assistants in the main ward he might obtain some additional information. He did obtain more facts, and he hurried to the office, eager to write the story. The heading was “How a Trained Nurse Defeated Death.”

The introduction described how a demure little nurse in the hospital who looked as if she might weigh not more than one hundred pounds, started on a walking match against death at five o’clock in the evening, and finished at six o’clock in the morning--a winner. The story went on and told how the ambulance had brought a twenty-two year old girl to the hospital after she had swallowed enough opium to send three or four strong men to their death. The poor, misguided girl who had taken the poison on account of a case of unrequited love, showed a strong desire to go to sleep. The little nurse knew that if the girl closed her eyes they would never again open in this world; so she tried to keep her awake by slapping her on the back.

That method was not strenuous enough, so the long walk was started. It was up and down the corridor of the receiving ward, and out into the hall and the yard. Whenever the nurse became tired she sat down to rest for a moment; but as soon as the girl nodded the walk was resumed. All through the lonesome hours of the night this unique feat of pedestrianism was continued. Daylight appeared, and still the walk went on. Finally the clock struck six, and the two women were still walking. Shortly after that the house physician made his appearance, and giving the girl a careful examination, pronounced her out of danger. Then, and not until then, the nurse went to sleep, and even while Herbert was writing his picturesque story she was still sleeping the sleep of the just and the brave.

His story made over a column in the Argus. It proved to be a palpable hit. Blakeley, the city editor, who did not see it until he picked up the paper the next morning, gloated over it with the glee with which a miser examines a newly found diamond. He patted Herbert on the back and said that if he continued to turn in stories of that character his period of probation would be short indeed and his permanence on the paper assured.

But the best feature of the incident, to Herbert’s mind, came on Friday afternoon, when he called at the business office and received a check for $8 for his piece of special reporting. This gave him a total cash balance of $10 and enabled him to pay his board bill and to look forward with confidence to the coming of his regular pay-days.