Mrs. Wellington turned pale and gazed beseechingly at Mr. Maynard, hoping he could help her out in the inevitable story that would be written up about her school. But Mr. Dalken saw the look and comprehended immediately.
Hello, Dunlap! Howd you get this assignment from the night-editor?
Oh its Mr. Dalken. Im delighted to see you, sir, returned the reporter, very respectfully.
Yes, these are friends of mine. Some of them are the dearest friends I have, so I do not wish them to be annoyed by finding a garbled story in the papers to-morrow morning. Consequently, I will, with the assistance of these friends, give you the facts, simple and straightforward, but see that you add nothing to them nor delete a line. Tell your boss that I said so!
I sure will, Mr. Dalken, and maybe I wont be the thankful guy if you tell me the story! Can I say it came from you? was the eager reply of the man Dunlap.
No, sir! I am not in this at all, except as one who rushed here to help friends. Now this is the story for your paper.
Mrs. Wellington had been anxiously whispering to Mr. Fabian,
and the latter now secured Mr. Dalkens attention. May I have a word with you, in private, before the reporter takes down any notes?
Out of hearing of the others, Mr. Fabian then explained that Elizabeth had stubbornly refused to postpone the entertainment, and because of her insistence, Mrs. Wellington had taken whatever hall she could find. But she did not want Elizabeth to be made to bear any of the blame, so she wants you to touch wisely on anything that has to do with the theatricals.
I certainly appreciate Mrs. Wellingtons thoughtfulness and I will remember this. Ill see what can be done with Dunlap.
Mr. Dalken is a born story-teller, Dunlap, and that is why he is so popular, I think, remarked Mr. Ashby, just then.
Sit down there by Fabian, Dunlap, and join our circle, cordially invited the story-teller, after he had frowned threateningly at his host.
Give Dunlap some coffee and dont let him jot down a word until Ive done talking. Then we will pick out the notes he is to have, added Mr. Dalken.
Oh, you can tell it so well, do let me write as you narrate? begged the reporter.
No, sir! I cant read short-hand and you may get in a word I dont want you to take. Here, James, remove the pencil and pad from that young man.
Everyone laughed, and Dunlap meekly surrendered the articles mentioned. Directly Mr. Dalken began his story, the wily reporter had another pencil and pad before him. But Fabian stealthily took possession of these also, and the laugh went against the young man that time.
While Mr. Dalken wove a veritable thriller out of the material provided by the fire, Mrs. Wellington wondered how it was possible to present the facts so well and at the same time prove, beyond doubt, that the young ladies of Mrs. Wellingtons school were so perfectly trained and educated that they were a great factor in saving lives and property that night. At the end of the story, Mr. Dalken said that some bright investor might find a handsome revenue in building a fire-proof Hall where just such entertainments could be given high-school girls who loved to give parties but could not lease one of the hotel ball-rooms, weeks in advance and pay exorbitant prices, and then possibly change their plans before the event.
You can make a separate paragraph of what I said, if you like, and preface it with the remark: When asked what he thought about the fire, Mr. Dalken, who viewed the blaze from a house opposite the scene, said: you know the rest, the famous financier saw that the reporter comprehended, and then he turned to the others seated about the table.
Anything to add to my story?
It was very fine, especially about our dear Principal, but you didnt say enough about Polly carrying Elizabeth safely out, Eleanor said, eagerly.
I followed a lead given me by Mr. Fabian. We all think it best not to mention names, but to make the incident impersonal, explained Mr. Dalken.
Eleanor pouted, for she wanted to have Polly given all the credit for what she did. But a sly look from the reporter gave her an idea, and she smiled back understandingly.
Then the story was pieced out for Dunlap and when he had taken down all his notes, he jumped up and said: I know you will excuse me for rushing away, but I want to get this in type at once. In case you have forgotten something, or wish to send me a photograph of anyone, call 10000 Greeley and Ill see to it, without fail.
Thats all youll get on this occasion, laughed Mr. Dalken as James started to show the young man to the door. But in passing Eleanor, Dunlap sent her a mental telegram, and she closed one eye significantly.
Oh he left his pencils and paper! exclaimed Eleanor, jumping up instantly and running with them to the front door.
Mr. Dunlap here is your private property that Mr. Fabian had charge of, was what the guests in the dining-room heard. But to Dunlap she hurriedly whispered: Ill phone you after I leave here.