Mark Tidd, Editor Part 30

"Sev'ral kinds," says he, "endin' with a big display of all kinds of cookin', and two nights with big dinners, one to be served by each club.

There'll be the argimint contest, and it's always p-practical results that shows there, hain't it, Mis' Strubber?"

"You bet it is," says she.

"So," says he, "I kind of reasoned out that we'd let results tell. Now,"

he says, "the kind of argimints that counts is _sellin'_ argimints. And you got to sell somethin' hard to sell, and everybody's got to sell the same thing."

"Mark Tidd," says she, "that's a splendid idee."

"I was wonderin' what you could t-tackle," says he. "It ought to be somethin' havin' to do with b-brains."

"Sure thing," says she.

"Books, maybe," says he. "Or maybe s-somethin' that would be harder 'n books."

"My husband's sister's second daughter," says she, "sells magazine subscriptions. She says it's the hardest thing there is-except newspaper subscriptions. She tackled that, but she says it was too much for her."

"Um!" says Mark. "I bet it wouldn't be too hard for _you_."

"A-hum!" says Mrs. Strubber. "I calc'late I could do it on a pinch."

"Then," says Mark, "let's settle on that-sellin' n-n-newspaper subscriptions. But what p-paper can you git to let you? It'll be p-perty hard, won't it?"

She thought quite a spell and guessed it would be. Then all of a sudden she bust right out and clapped her hands together, "Why," she says, "you're int'rested in this, and you got a paper. Couldn't we git you to let us use the _Trumpet_?"

Mark he sat back and frowned and sort of shook his head, but after a minute he says, deliberate-like, "Well," says he, "I guess I'd be willin' to do that for a cause of this kind. But," says he, "it's concedin' consid'able."

"Oh," says she, "thank you, Mark! It's awful good of you to let us do that. But what's the rest of your scheme?"

"Why," says he, "every year's subscription you sell will mean ten votes, and the side sellin' the most will be showed to be the smartest arguers, and the smartest arguers, everybody admits, is the smartest f-folks all around. Then, at the end, there'll be a dinner served by the Circle, and one served by the Home Culturers, that n.o.body can go to but subscribers to the _Trumpet_. That'll help sell the s-s-subscriptions. The night after the second dinner'll be the cookin' show, admission included when you sell a s-subscription, and every subscriber'll have one vote as to which club's wimmin is the b-best cooks. That'll about shut up every argimint as to which is the s-smartest and usefulest. 'Cause," says he, "the ones that win both them things will p-prove it so n.o.body kin say a word."

"Mark Tidd," says she, "you're a smart boy."

"Like the idee?" says he, looking tickled to death.

"You bet," says she. "How'll we start it?"

"Why," says he, "you have a m-meetin' of your club and git up a challenge to them Home Culturers, darin' 'em to contest that way ag'in'

you. I'll p-publish it in the _Trumpet_, and it bein' public that way, they won't dast to refuse, and you'll have 'em. See? And," says he, "as a example of p-public spirit," he says, "the _Trumpet_ will give a p-prize to the winners equal to t-t-ten per cent.," he says, "of all the subscriptions taken. It'll be," says he, "a set of books, real brainy books, for the winnin' club always to have in its l-l-library."

"Mark," says she, "you're that generous!"

"Generous!" I thought to myself, for I knew mighty well Mark would be tickled to pay near twice that much to git subscriptions.

"I'll call that meetin' for to-morrow," says she, "and have the challenge ready so's you can publish it in the next paper."

"Got a picture of you?" says he. "I'd like to p-print it the day the challenge comes out."

Well, the way she jerked one out of the plush alb.u.m and gave it to him would have made you scairt. She jest _tore_ it out of the page without waiting to draw it out of the slits.

"Mark Tidd," says she, "the club'll give you a special vote of thanks for this," she says.

Mark he said something sugary to her and then we left, and he kept his face straight till we got around the corner. Then he just leaned up against a tree and shook like a plate of jelly. I don't know as I ever saw him laugh harder, and I laughed, too, though it wasn't so funny to me, for I was thinking what a slick way he had about him. My goodness!

I'd hate to have Mark Tidd want me to do something I didn't want to, because, before I knew it, he'd have me all through with it.

We went back to the office, where Plunk and Tallow were keeping shop, and who should be there but the Man With the Black Gloves. Yes, sir, he just went in ahead of us, and he was writing another advertis.e.m.e.nt to be put in the paper. It went like this:

Jethro: Same time. Same place. Important. G. G. G.

"Well," says Mark, when he had gone out, "I guess we got to m-make another t-trip to that bridge."

CHAPTER XV

Next afternoon late Mrs. Strubber came in with a challenge to the Home Culturers, all drawn up and ready to print. Mark had sent her picture away to have a cut made, and as soon as the challenge came in we took it right out to Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat to have him set it in type. He read it over once, and then he read it over twice, and then he reached for his coat.

"Where you g-g-goin'?" asks Mark.

"Far, far away," says he, moving toward the door.

"What d'you m-mean?" says Mark.

"I've lost my taste for this employment," says he. "The sweetness of the job got worn off as soon as I read that paper. I'm a peaceful man, Mark Tidd. I hain't never carried no weapons, and I regard those that seek for warfare and strife as not havin' the necessary quant.i.ty of brains.

I'll admit," says he, "that I've partic.i.p.ated in a couple of riots and a few fights, but it wasn't of my own free will and accord. Furthermore, and you can take the word of Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat for it, the newspaper business hain't as safe as knittin' socks, anyhow, but when you start to call down trouble onto yourself, like this challenge will call it down, then it's time for a man who's set up as many almanacs as I have, and is steeped in wisdom, to go and enlist in a regiment bound to fight Injuns."

"Mr. Spat," says Mark, "what in the world are you talkin' about?"

"You'll see," says he. "Wait till them enraged wimmin start besiegin'

this office. Wait till they jam into the place bristlin' with hatpins and dignity. Wait till the full awfulness of what's goin' to happen begins to occur, and then you'll think of Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat and regret you cast aside his wise words with scorn."

"Shucks!" says Mark. "Those ladies will get us a wad of s-s-subscriptions."

"At what a cost!" says he.

"Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat," says Mark, "be you goin' to f-f-fail us when we need you most, eh? Be you g-goin' to desert us, carryin' away the wisdom and experience we can't spare? Lemme ask you, how d-d-do you s'pose we can git along without you to advise us? If t-t-trouble should come," says he, "who would git us out of it if you was g-g-gone?"

"Hum!" says Spat.

Mark winked at me.

"See what you've made of this p-p-paper already," says he. "L-look what you kin do before you're through. D'you know how f-folks in this town speak about you, Mr. Spat? D'you know you've been spoke of for the State Legislature? And you'd go away and desert Wicksville and us on account of a few wimmin that couldn't hurt a-a-anythin'."

"Mark Tidd," says Spat, "it seems like I'm duty bound to stay, but mark my words, which is words of experience, paid for with groans and misery, you're goin' to wish you was locked into a cage with ravenin' wildcats and howlin' hyenas before this contest is over. I'll stay, but I'll suffer. I'll stay to save you boys from the results of your rashness....

Now gimme back that challenge."

He went back to work and set it up, and more stuff Mark had written explaining all about the contest, and Mrs. Strubber's picture was to be printed right in the middle of all of it, with some glowing and complimentary facts about her and her club. The whole thing was to be printed on the first page of the _Trumpet_.