That was a time when the price of a
coat was a thing of no little importance to the Printer. Tonight
there was about him a great glow, such as comes of fine tailoring
and new linen.
He was so preoccupied with his paper that I went out into the big
room and sat down, awaiting a better time.
'The Printer's going to Washington to talk with the president,' said
an editor.
Just then Mr Greeley went running hurriedly up the spiral stair on
his way to the typeroom. Three or four compositors had gone up
ahead of him. He had risen out of sight when we heard a
tremendous uproar above stairs. I ran up, two steps at a time, while
the high voice of Mr Greeley came pouring down upon me like a
flood. It had a wild, fleering tone. He stood near the landing,
swinging his arms and swearing like a boy just learning how. In
the middle of the once immaculate shirt bosom was a big, yellow
splash. Something had fallen on him and spattered as it struck We
stood well out of range, looking at it, undeniably the stain of
nicotine.
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