CHAPTER XXVIII.
ACCEPTED.
The editor of the "Standard" looked with some surprise at the twoboys. As editor, he was not accustomed to receive such youngvisitors. He was courteous, however, and said, pleasantly:--
"What can I do for you, young gentlemen?"
"Are you the editor of the 'Standard'?" asked Harry, diffidently.
"I am. Do you wish to subscribe?"
"I have already written something for your paper," Harry continued.
"Indeed!" said the editor. "Was it poetry or prose?"
Harry felt flattered by the question. To be mistaken for a poet hefelt to be very complimentary. If he had known how much trash weeklyfound its way to the "Standard" office, under the guise of poetry, hewould have felt less flattered.
"I have written some essays over the name of 'Franklin,'" he hastenedto say.
"Ah, yes, I remember, and very sensible essays too. You are young towrite."
"Yes, sir; I hope to improve as I grow older."
By this time Oscar felt impelled to speak for his friend. It seemedto him that Harry was too modest.
"My friend is assistant editor of a New Hampshire paper,--'TheCentreville Gazette,'" he announced.
"Indeed!" said the editor, looking surprised. "He is certainly youngfor an editor."
"My friend is not quite right," said Harry, hastily. "I am one ofthe compositors on that paper."
"But you write editorial paragraphs," said Oscar.
"Yes, unimportant ones."
"And are you, too, an editor?" asked the editor of the "Standard,"addressing Oscar with a smile.
"Not exactly," said Oscar; "but I am an editor's son. Perhaps youare acquainted with my father,--John Vincent of this city."
"Are you his son?" said the editor, respectfully. "I know yourfather slightly. He is one of our ablest journalists."
"Thank you, sir."
"I am very glad to receive a visit from you, and should be glad toprint anything from your pen."
"I am not sure about that," said Oscar, smiling. "If I have a talentfor writing, it hasn't developed itself yet. But my friend heretakes to it as naturally as a duck takes to water."
"Have you brought me another essay, Mr. 'Franklin'?" asked theeditor, turning to Harry. "I address you by your _nom de plume_, notknowing your real name."
"Permit me to introduce my friend, Harry Walton," said Oscar."Harry, where is your story?"
"I have brought you in a story," said Harry, blushing. "It is myfirst attempt, and may not suit you, but I shall be glad if you willtake the trouble to examine it."
"With pleasure," said the editor. "Is it long?"
"About two columns. It is of a humorous character."
The editor reached out his hand, and, taking the manuscript, unrolledit. He read the first few lines, and they seemed to strike hisattention.
"If you will amuse yourselves for a few minutes, I will read it atonce," he said. "I don't often do it, but I will break over mycustom this time."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry.
"There are some of my exchanges," said the editor, pointing to a pileon the floor. "You may find something to interest you in some ofthem."
They picked up some papers, and began to read. But Harry could nothelp thinking of the verdict that was to be pronounced on hismanuscript. Upon that a great deal hinged. If he could feel that hewas able to produce anything that would command compensation, howeversmall, it would make him proud and happy. He tried, as he gazedfurtively over his paper at the editor's face, to anticipate hisdecision, but the latter was too much accustomed to readingmanuscript to show the impression made upon him.
Fifteen minutes passed, and he looked up.
"Well, Mr. Walton," he said, "your first attempt is a success."
Harry's face brightened.
"May I ask if the plot is original?"
"It is so far as I know, sir. I don't think I ever read anythinglike it."
"Of course there are some faults in the construction, and thedialogue might be amended here and there. But it is very creditable,and I will use it in the 'Standard' if you desire it."
"I do, sir."
"And how much are you willing to pay for it?" Oscar struck in.
The editor hesitated.
"It is not our custom to pay novices just at first," he said. "IfMr. Walton keeps on writing, he would soon command compensation."
Harry would not have dared to press the matter, but Oscar was not sodiffident. Indeed, it is easier to be bold in a friend's cause thanone's own.
"Don't you think it is worth being paid for, if it is worthprinting?" he persisted.
"Upon that principle, we should feel obliged to pay for poetry," saidthe editor.
"Oh," said Oscar, "poets don't need money. They live on flowers anddew-drops."
The editor smiled.
"You think prose-writers require something more substantial?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will tell you how the matter stands," said the editor. "Mr.Walton is a beginner. He has his reputation to make. When it ismade he will be worth a fair price to me, or any of my brothereditors."
"I see," said Oscar; "but his story must be worth something. It willfill up two columns. If you didn't print it, you would have to paysomebody for writing these two columns."
"You have some reason in what you say. Still our ordinary rule isbased on justice. A distinction should be made between newcontributors and old favorites."
"Yes, sir. Pay the first smaller sums."
If the speaker had not been John Vincent's son, it would have beendoubtful if his reasoning would have prevailed. As it was, theeditor yielded.
"I may break over my rule in the case of your friend," said theeditor; "but he must be satisfied with a very small sum for thepresent."
"Anything will satisfy me, sir," said Harry, eagerly.
"Your story will fill two columns. I commonly pay two dollars acolumn for such articles, if by practised writers. I will give youhalf that."
"Thank you, sir. I accept it," said Harry, promptly.
"In a year or so I may see my way clear to paying you more, Mr.Walton; but you must consider that I give you the opportunity ofwinning popularity, and regard this as part of your compensation, atpresent."
"I am quite satisfied, sir," said Harry, his heart fluttering withjoy and triumph. "May I write you some more sketches?"
"I shall be happy to receive and examine them; but you must not bedisappointed if from time to time I reject your manuscripts."
"No, sir; I will take it as a hint that they need improving."
"I will revise my friend's stories, sir," said Oscar, humorously,"and give him such hints as my knowledge of the world may suggest."
"No doubt such suggestions from so mature a friend will materiallybenefit them," said the editor, smiling.
He opened his pocket-book, and, drawing out a two-dollar bill, handedit to Harry.
"I shall hope to pay you often," he said, "for similar contributions."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry.
Feeling that their business was at an end, the boys withdrew. Asthey reached the foot of the stairs, Oscar took off his cap, andbowed low.
"Mr. Lynn, I congratulate you," he said.
"I can't tell you how glad I feel, Oscar," said Harry, his faceradiant.
"Let me suggest that you owe me a commission for impressing upon theeditor the propriety of paying you."
"How much do you ask?"
"An ice-cream will be satisfactory."
"All right."
"Come round to Copeland's then. We'll celebrate your success in abecoming manner."
Risen from the Ranks; Or, Harry Walton's Success Page 28