when the stores kept open until 10 P.M.?  Hal agreed, and, in the face of the dismalest forecasts from Shearson, prepared several editorials.  Moreover, “Kitty the Cutie” took up the campaign in her column, and her series of “Lunch-Time Chats,” with their slangy, pungent, workaday flavor, presented the case of the overworked saleswomen in a way to stir the dullest sympathies.  The event fully justified Shearson in his role of Cassandra.  Half of the remaining stores represented in the Retail Union notified the “Clarion” of the withdrawal of their advertising.  Thus some twelve hundred dollars a week of income vanished.  Moreover, the Union, it was hinted, would probably blacklist the “Clarion” officially.  And the shop-folk gained nothing by the campaign.  The merchants were strong enough to defeat the League and its sole backer at every point.  This was one of the “Clarion’s” failures.

Coincident with the ebb of the store advertising occurred a lapse in circulation, inexplicable to the staff until an analysis indicated that the women readers were losing interest.  It was young Mr. Surtaine who solved the mystery, by a flash of that newspaper instinct with which Ellis had early credited him.

“Department store advertising is news,” he decided, in a talk with Ellis and Shearson.

“How can advertising be news?” objected the manager.

“Anything that interests the public is news, on the authority of no less an expert than Mr. McGuire Ellis.  Shopping is the main interest in life of thousands of women.  They read the papers to find out where the bargains are.  Watch ’em on the cars any morning and you’ll see them studying the ads.  The information in those ads. is what they most want.  Now that we don’t give it to them, they are dropping the paper.  So we’ve got to give it to them.”

“Now you’re talking,” cried Shearson.  “Cut out this Consumers’ League slush and I’ll get the stores back.”

“We’ll cut out nothing.  But we’ll put in something.  We’ll print news of the department stores as news, not as advertising.”

“Well, if that ain’t the limit!” lamented Shearson.  “If you give ’em advertising matter free, how can you ever expect ’em to pay for it?”

“We’re not giving it to the stores.  We’re giving it to our readers.”

“In which case,” remarked McGuire Ellis with a grin, “we can afford to furnish the real facts.”

“Exactly,” said Hal.

From this talk developed a unique department in the “Clarion.”  An expert woman shopper collected the facts and presented them daily under the caption, “Where to Find Real Bargains,” and with the prefatory note, “No paid matter is accepted for this column.”  The expert had an allowance for purchasing, where necessary, and the utmost freedom of opinion was granted her.  Thus, in the midst of a series of items, such as—­“The Boston Store is offering a special sale of linens at advantageous prices”; “The necktie sale