newest hotel, had established a coat-room with
the usual corps of girl-bandits, waiting to strip every patron of his
outer garments before admitting him to the restaurant, and returning
them only upon the blackmail of a tip. All the other good restaurants
had followed suit. Worthington resented it, as it resented most
innovations; but endured the imposition, for lack of solidarity, until
the "Clarion" took up the subject in a series of paragraphs.

"Do you think," blandly inquired the editorial roosters, "that when you
tip the hat-check girl she gets the tip? She doesn't. It goes to a man
who rents from the restaurant the privilege of bullying you out of a
dime or a quarter. The girl holds you up, because if she doesn't extort
fifteen dollars a week, she loses her job and her own munificent wages
of seven dollars. The 'Clarion' takes pleasure in announcing a series of
portraits of the high-minded pirates of finance whom you support in
luxury, when you 'give up' to the check-girl. Our first portrait, ladies
and gentlemen, is that of Mr. Abe Hotzenmuller, race-track bookmaker and
whiskey agent, who, in the intervals of these more reputable
occupations, extracts alms from the patrons of the Hotel Stickler."

Next in line was "Shirty" MacDonough, a minor politician, "appropriately
framed in silver dimes," as the "Clarion" put it. He was followed by
Eddie Perkins, proprietor of a dubious resort on Mail Street. By this
time coat-room franchises had suffered a severe depreciation. They
dropped almost to zero when the newspaper, having clinched the lesson
home with its "Photo-graft Gallery of Leading Dime-Hunters," exhorted
its readers: "If you think you need your change as much as these men do,
watch for the coupon in to-morrow's 'Clarion,' and Stick it in Your
Hat." The coupon was as follows:

I READ THE CLARION. I WILL NOT GIVE ONE CENT IN TIPS TO ANY
COAT-ROOM GRAFTER. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

The enterprise hit upon the psychological moment. Every check-room
bristled with hats proclaiming defiance, and, incidentally, advertising
the "Clarion." The "cut-out coupon" ran for three weeks. In one month
the Stickler check-room, last to surrender, gave up the ghost, and Mr.
Hotzenmuller sued the proprietor for his money back!

Over the theatrical managers the paper's victory was decisive in this,
that it established honest dramatic criticism in Worthington. But only
at a high cost. Not a line of theater a