Chapter V

St. Paul's struck the threequarters. Corey took his hat and put his hand on the door. He was a little drunken with fatigue.

"Don't go," said the President. "We need a title for this."

"Tomorrow night I shall give you my answer," said Corey grandly.

"Stay and proofread it with us:" Said the Managing Editor. "It's going to run blackface, across both the ed columns."

"What's the hurry?" asked Corey "Why set it up tonight?"

"Because it's got to be printed tonight."

"What!" Corey's hat fell, Quickly he picked it up. "What do you mean? The column for tomorrow is all written and sent down!"

"Who wrote it?"

"I and candidate Grupp and the Boston Herald."

The President drew on his cigarette. "I'm sorry, old man."

"Why didn't you tell the A.M.E. that you were taking the column tonight?" barked Corey.

The President thoughtfully smoked on. The Managing Editor volunteered quietly: "We didn't decide till about eight o'clock that we would have anything to say. Then I suggested that, since we were sending 400 copies on the night express to the Associated Clubs in Cleveland anyway, we might as well say something--"

Corey's lips were folded. Suddenly he burst out. "It's going to cost you twenty-eight inches of overset. Wait till tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow is Saturday," reminded the President.