“I believe, Mr. Manning, that you have had some practical experience in college boat-racing.”
“A little, sir,” answered Myles, modestly.
“Well,” continued the city editor, “while Billings is a most admirable descriptive writer, he is not as familiar as I could wish with the details of timing a crew, noting their form, and so forth. I have decided, therefore, to send you to New London to help him out. The race will not take place until the day after to-morrow, but I think you had better run up there to-day so as to be on hand. You will, of course, report to Billings, and here is an order on the cashier for twenty-five dollars for your expenses. If you need any more, Billings will furnish it.”
Myles had so completely dismissed all thoughts of the boat-race from his mind, that had Mr. Haxall offered him the position of managing editor he could hardly have been more amazed than by this assignment. He was, however, rapidly learning to conceal all signs of surprise upon such occasions, and so, answering, “Very well, sir,” he took the order on the cashier and left the office.
An hour later he was rolling out of the Grand Central station on his way to New London, while the scenes amid which he had passed the preceding two days were already fading beneath the influence of pleasant anticipations.
Arrived at New London, he had no difficulty in finding Billings, who, having secured for his own use the finest apartment in the best hotel in the city, was now the centre of an interested group of reporters gathered behind its closed doors.
“Hello, Manning!” cried the generally languid Billings, who now appeared greatly excited. “Come in. You are just in time to take part in our indignation meeting. What do you think the nice little boys of the X—— College crew have gone and done?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Myles, flushing at the tone in which his recent mates were spoken of. “I don’t believe, though, that it is any thing to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it, though!” cried several voices, while Billings said:
“It is something they ought to be ashamed of if they are not. Why, they actually have had the cheek to put a big sign out in front of their quarters bearing the legend, ‘No Loafers nor Reporters Admitted.’ What do you think of that for impudence, when, if it wasn’t for the press, as represented by us reporters, their little penny races would never be heard of outside of their own little circle of friends? Now, there are plenty of college graduates among us here. We know just how conceited and ‘cocky’ these young fellows feel, and we can make allowances for them, but this is going a little too far. What do you say to it, Manning?”