pstairs. When the
major came at eight as usual, Devore was waiting for him at the door of
the city room; and as they went upstairs together, side by side, I saw
Devore's arm steal timidly out and rest a moment on the major's
shoulder.

The major was the first to descend. Walking unusually erect, even for
him, he bustled into the telephone booth. Jessie, our operator, told us
afterward that he called up a haberdasher, and in a voice that boomed
like a bell ordered fourteen of those plaited-bosom shirts of his, the
same to be made up and delivered as soon as possible. Then he stalked
out. And in a minute or two more Devore came down looking happy and
unhappy and embarrassed and exalted, all of them at once. On his way to
his desk he halted midway of the floor.

"Gentlemen," he said huskily--"fellows, I mean--I've got an announcement
to make, or rather two announcements. One is this: Right here before you
fellows who heard most of them I want to take back all the mean things I
ever said about him--about Major Stone--and I want to say I'm sorry for
all the mean things I've done to him. I've tried to beg his pardon, but
he wouldn't listen--he wouldn't let me beg his pardon--he--he said
everything was all right. That's one announcement. Here's the other: The
major is going to have a new job with this paper. He's going to leave
the city staff. Hereafter he's going to be upstairs in the room next to
the chief. He's gone out now to pick out his own desk. He's going to
write specials for the Sunday--specials about the war. And he's going
to do it on a decent salary too."

I judge by my own feelings that we all wanted to cheer, but didn't
because we thought it might sound theatrical and foolish. Anyhow, I know
that was how I felt. So there was a little awkward pause.

"What's his new title going to be?" asked somebody then.

"The title is appropriate--I suggested it myself," said Devore. "Major
Stone is going to be war editor."

V

SMOKE OF BATTLE

This befell during the period that Major Putnam Stone, at the age of
sixty-two, held a job as cub reporter on the Evening Press and worked at
it until his supply of fine linen and the patience of City Editor
Wilbert Devore frazzled out practically together. The episode to which I
would here direct attention came to pass in the middle of a particularly
hot week in the middle of that particularly hot and grubby summer, at a
time when the major was still wearing the last