“How much?” somebody asked.

“Five thousand dollars ought to do it.”

“That’s a considerable sum,” another pointed out.

“And this is a serious matter,” retorted the chairman.  “Many of us remember the disastrous effect that rumors of smallpox had on Old Home Week, some years back.  We can’t afford to have anything of that sort this time.  An epidemic scare might ruin the whole show.”

Now, an epidemic to these hard-headed business men was something that kept people away from their stores.  And the rumor of an epidemic might accomplish that as thoroughly as the epidemic itself.  Therefore, without questioning too far, they were quite willing to spend money to avert such disaster.  The sum suggested was voted into the hands of a committee of three to be appointed by the chair.

“In the mean time,” continued Dr. Surtaine, “I think we should go on record to the effect that any newspaper which shall publish or any individual who shall circulate any report calculated to inspire distrust or alarm is hostile to the best interests of the city.”

“Well, what newspaper is likely to do that?” demanded Leroy Vane, of the “Banner.”

“If it’s any it’ll be the ‘Clarion,’” growled Colonel Parker, editor of the “Telegram.”

“The newspaper business in this town is going to the dogs since the ‘Clarion’ changed hands,” said Carney Ford, of the “Press,” savagely.  “Nobody can tell what they’re going to do next over there.  They’re keeping the decent papers on the jump all the time, with their yellowness and scarehead muckraking.”

“A big sensational story about an epidemic would be great meat for the ‘Clarion,’” said Vane.  “What does it care for the best interests of the town?”

“As an editor,” observed Dr. Surtaine blandly, “my son don’t appear to be over-popular with his confreres.”

“Why should he be?” cried Parker.  “He’s forever publishing stuff that we’ve always let alone.  Then the public wants to know why we don’t get the news.  Get it?  Of course we get it.  But we don’t always want to print it.  There’s such a thing as a gentleman’s understanding in the newspaper business.”

“So I’ve heard,” replied the chairman.  “Well, gentlemen, the boy’s young.  Give him time.”

“I’ll give him six months, not longer, to go on the way he’s been going,” said John M. Gibbs, with a vicious snap of his teeth.

“Does the ‘Clarion’ really intend to publish anything about an epidemic?” asked Stickler, of the Hotel Stickler.

“Nothing is decided yet, so far as I know.  But I may safely say that there’s a probability of their getting up some kind of a sensational story.”

“Can’t you control your own son?” asked some one bluntly.

“Understand this, if you please, gentlemen.  Over the Worthington ‘Clarion’ I have no control whatsoever.”

“Well, there’s where the danger lies,” said Vane.  “If the ‘Clarion’ comes out with a big story, the rest of us have got to publish something to save our face.”