At morning there was another spread in the newspapers.  The wonder of a few days had spent its force, and the Witherspoon sensation was done.

CHAPTER XII.

A democracy.

The Star was printed in an old building where more than one newspaper had failed.  The interior of the place was so comfortless in arrangement, so subject to unaccountable drafts of cold air in winter and breaths of hot oppression in summer, that it must have been built especially for a newspaper office.  Henry found that the working force consisted mainly of a few young reporters and a large force of editorial writers.  The weakness of nearly every newspaper is its editorial page, and especially so when the paper is owned by a politician.  The new manager straightway began a reorganization.  It was an easy matter to form an efficient staff, for in every city some of the best newspaper men are out of employment—­the bright and uncertain writers who have been shoved aside by trustworthy plodders.  He did not begin as one who knows it all, but he sought the co-operation of practical men.  The very man who knew that the paper could not do without him was told that his services were no longer needed.  In his day he had spread many an acre of platitudes; he had hammered the tariff mummy, and at every lick he had knocked out the black dust; he had snorted loud in controversy, and was arrogant in the certainty that his blowhard sentence was the frosty air of satire.  He was the representative of a class.  To him all clearness of expression was shallowness of thought, and brightness was the essence of frivolity.  He soon found another place, for some of the Chicago newspapers still set a premium upon windy dullness.

Among the writers whom Henry decided to retain was Laura Drury.  She wrote book reviews and scraps which were supposed to be of interest to women.  Her room opened into Henry’s, and through a door which was never shut he could see her at work.  The brightness and the modesty of her face attracted him.  She could not have been more than twenty years of age.

“Have you been long in newspaper work?” he asked, when she had come in to submit something to him.

“Only a short time,” she answered, and returned at once to her desk.  Henry looked at her as she proceeded with her work.  Her presence seemed to refine the entire office.  He fancied that her hair made the room brighter.  His curiosity was awakened by one touch of her presence.  He sought to know more of her, and when she had come in again to consult him, he said:  “Wait a moment, please.  How long have you been connected with this paper?”

“About three months, regularly.”

“Had you worked on any other paper in the city?”

“No, sir; I have never worked on any other paper.”

“Have you lived here long?”

“No, sir, I have been here only a short time.  I am from Missouri.”