the story of the treasure seekers-第7部分

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lighted　and　the　electric　lights。　　There　is　a　jolly　Bovril　sign　that

comes　off　and　on　in　different　coloured　lamps。　　We　went　to　the　Daily

Recorder　office；　and　asked　to　see　the　Editor。　　It　is　a　big　office；

very　bright；　with　brass　and　mahogany　and　electric　lights。



They　told　us　the　Editor　wasn't　there；　but　at　another　office。　　So　we

went　down　a　dirty　street；　to　a　very　dull…looking　place。　　There　was

a　man　there　inside；　in　a　glass　case；　as　if　he　was　a　museum；　and　he

told　us　to　write　down　our　names　and　our　business。　　So　Oswald　wrote

…





OSWALD　BASTABLE。



NOEL　BASTABLE。



Business　very　private　indeed。





Then　we　waited　on　the　stone　stairs；　it　was　very　draughty。　　And　the

man　in　the　glass　case　looked　at　us　as　if　we　were　the　museum　instead

of　him。　　We　waited　a　long　time；　and　then　a　boy　came　down　and　said

…



'The　Editor　can't　see　you。　　Will　you　please　write　your　business？'

And　he　laughed。　　I　wanted　to　punch　his　head。



But　Noel　said；　'Yes；　I'll　write　it　if　you'll　give　me　a　pen　and　ink；

and　a　sheet　of　paper　and　an　envelope。'



The　boy　said　he'd　better　write　by　post。　　But　Noel　is　a　bit

pig…headed；　it's　his　worst　fault。　　So　he　said　…

'No；　I'll　write　it　now。'　　So　I　backed　him　up　by　saying　…



'Look　at　the　price　penny　stamps　are　since　the　coal　strike！'





So　the　boy　grinned；　and　the　man　in　the　glass　case　gave　us　pen　and

paper；　and　Noel　wrote。　　Oswald　writes　better　than　he　does；　but　Noel

would　do　it；　and　it　took　a　very　long　time；　and　then　it　was　inky。





DEAR　MR　EDITOR；　I　want　you　to　print　my　poetry　and　pay　for　it；　and

I　am　a　friend　of　Mrs　Leslie's；　she　is　a　poet　too。



Your　affectionate　friend；



NOEL　BASTABLE。





He　licked　the　envelope　a　good　deal；　so　that　that　boy　shouldn't　read

it　going　upstairs；　and　he　wrote　'Very　private'　outside；　and　gave

the　letter　to　the　boy。　　I　thought　it　wasn't　any　good；　but　in　a

minute　the　grinning　boy　came　back；　and　he　was　quite　respectful；　and

said　…　'The　Editor　says；　please　will　you　step　up？'



We　stepped　up。　　There　were　a　lot　of　stairs　and　passages；　and　a

queer　sort　of　humming；　hammering　sound　and　a　very　funny　smell。　　The

boy　was　now　very　polite；　and　said　it　was　the　ink　we　smelt；　and　the

noise　was　the　printing　machines。



After　going　through　a　lot　of　cold　passages　we　came　to　a　door；　the

boy　opened　it；　and　let　us　go　in。　　There　was　a　large　room；　with　a

big；　soft；　blue…and…red　carpet；　and　a　roaring　fire；　though　it　was

only　October；　and　a　large　table　with　drawers；　and　littered　with

papers；　just　like　the　one　in　Father's　study。　　A　gentleman　was

sitting　at　one　side　of　the　table；　he　had　a　light　moustache　and

light　eyes；　and　he　looked　very　young　to　be　an　editor　…　not　nearly

so　old　as　Father。　　He　looked　very　tired　and　sleepy；　as　if　he　had

got　up　very　early　in　the　morning；　but　he　was　kind；　and　we　liked

him。　　Oswald　thought　he　looked　clever。　　Oswald　is　considered　a

judge　of　faces。



'Well；'　said　he；　'so　you　are　Mrs　Leslie's　friends？'

'I　think　so；'　said　Noel；　'at　least　she　gave　us　each　a　shilling；　and

she　wished　us　〃good　hunting！〃'



'Good　hunting；　eh？　　Well；　what　about　this　poetry　of　yours？　　Which

is　the　poet？'



I　can't　think　how　he　could　have　asked！　　Oswald　is　said　to　be　a　very

manly…looking　boy　for　his　age。　　However；　I　thought　it　would　look

duffing　to　be　offended；　so　I　said　…



'This　is　my　brother　Noel。　　He　is　the　poet。'　　Noel　had　turned　quite

pale。　　He　is　disgustingly　like　a　girl　in　some　ways。　　The　Editor

told　us　to　sit　down；　and　he　took　the　poems　from　Noel；　and　began　to

read　them。　　Noel　got　paler　and　paler；　I　really　thought　he　was　going

to　faint；　like　he　did　when　I　held　his　hand　under　the　cold…water

tap；　after　I　had　accidentally　cut　him　with　my　chisel。　　When　the

Editor　had　read　the　first　poem　…　it　was　the　one　about　the　beetle　…

he　got　up　and　stood　with　his　back　to　us。　　It　was　not　manners；　but

Noel　thinks　he　did　it　'to　conceal　his　emotion；'　as　they　do　in

books。　　He　read　all　the　poems；　and　then　he　said　…



'I　like　your　poetry　very　much；　young　man。　　I'll　give　you　…　let　me

see；　how　much　shall　I　give　you　for　it？'



'As　much　as　ever　you　can；'　said　Noel。　　'You　see　I　want　a　good　deal

of　money　to　restore　the　fallen　fortunes　of　the　house　of　Bastable。'



The　gentleman　put　on　some　eye…glasses　and　looked　hard　at　us。　　Then

he　sat　down。



'That's　a　good　idea；'　said　he。　　'Tell　me　how　you　came　to　think　of

it。　　And；　I　say；　have　you　had　any　tea？　　They've　just　sent　out　for

mine。'



He　rang　a　tingly　bell；　and　the　boy　brought　in　a　tray　with　a　teapot

and　a　thick　cup　and　saucer　and　things；　and　he　had　to　fetch　another

tray　for　us；　when　he　was　told　to；　and　we　had　tea　with　the　Editor　of

the　Daily　Recorder。　　I　suppose　it　was　a　very　proud　moment　for　Noel；

though　I　did　not　think　of　that　till　afterwards。　　The　Editor　asked

us　a　lot　of　questions；　and　we　told　him　a　good　deal；　though　of

course　I　did　not　tell　a　stranger　all　our　reasons　for　thinking　that

the　family　fortunes　wanted　restoring。　　We　stayed　about　half　an

hour；　and　when　we　were　going　away　he　said　again　…



'I　shall　print　all　your　poems；　my　poet；　and　now　what　do　you　think

they're　worth？'



'I　don't　know；'　Noel　said。　　'You　see　I　didn't　write　them　to　sell。'



'Why　did　you　write　them　then？'　he　asked。



Noel　said　he　didn't　know；　he　supposed　because　he　wanted　to。



'Art　for　Art's　sake；　eh？'　said　the　Editor；　and　he　seemed　quite

delighted；　as　though　Noel　had　said　something　clever。



'Well；　would　a　guinea　meet　your　views？'　he　asked。



I　have　read　of　people　being　at　a　loss　for　words；　and　dumb　with

emotion；　and　I've　read　of　people　being　turned　to　stone　with

astonishment；　or　joy；　or　something；　but　I　never　knew　how　silly　it

looked　till　I　saw　Noel　standing　staring　at　the　Editor　with　his

mouth　open。　　He　went　red　and　he　went　white；　and　then　he　got

crimson；　as　if　you　were　rubbing　more　and　more　crimson　lake　on　a

palette。　　But　he　didn't　say　a　word；　so　Oswald　had　to　say　…　'I

should　jolly　well　think　so。'

So　the　Editor　gave　Noel　a　sovereign　and　a　shilling；　and　he　shook

hands　with　us　both；　but　he　thumped　Noel　on　the　back　and　said　…



'Buck　up；　old　man！　　It's　your　first　guinea；　but　it　won't　be　your

last。　　Now　go　along　home；　and　in　about　ten　years　you　can　bring　me

some　more　poetry。　　Not　before　…　see？　　I'm　just　taking　this　poetry

of　yours　because　I　like　it　very　much；　but　we　don't　put　poetry　in

this　paper　at　all。　　I　shall　have　to　put　it　in　another　paper　I　know

of。'



'What　do　you　put　in　your　paper？'　I　asked；　for　Father　always　takes

the　Daily　Chronicle；　and　I　didn't　know　what　the　Recorder　was　like。　

We　chose　it　because　it　has　such　a　glorious　office；　and　a　clock

outside　lighted　up。



'Oh；　news；'　said　he；　'and　dull　articles；　and　things　about

Celebrities。　　If　you　know　any　Celebrities；　now？'



Noel　asked　him　what　Celebrities　were。



'Oh；　the　Queen　and　the　Princes；　and　people　with　titles；　and　people

who　write；　or　sing；　or　act　…　or　do　something　clever　or　wicked。'



'I　don't　know　anybody　wicked；'　said　Oswald；　wishing　he　had　known

Dick　Turpin；　or　Claude　Duval；　so　as　to　be　able　to　tell　the　Editor

things　about　them。　　'But　I　know　some　one　with　a　title　…　Lord

Tottenham。'



'The　mad　old　Protectionist；　eh？　　How　did　you　come　to　know　him？'



'We　don't　know　him　to　speak　to。　　But　he　goes　over　the　Heath　every

day　at　three；　and　he　strides　along　like　a　giant　…　with　a　black

cloak　like　Lord　Tennyson's　flying　behind　him；　and　he　talks　to

himself　like　one　o'clock。'



'What　does　he　say？'　　The　Editor　had　sat　down　again；　and　he　was

fiddling　with　a　blue　pencil。



'We　only　heard　him　once；　close　enough　to　understand；　and　then　he

said；　〃The　curse　of　the　country；　sir　…　ruin　and　desolation！〃　And

then　he　went　striding　along　again；　hitting　at　the　furze…bushes　as

if　they　were　the　heads　of　his　enemies。'



'Excellent　descriptive　touch；'　said　the　Editor。　　'Well；　go　on。'



'That's　all　I　know　about　him；　except　that　he　stops　in　the　middle　of

the　Heath　every　day；　and　he　looks　all　round　to　see　if　there's　any

one　about；　and　if　there　isn't；　he　takes　his　collar　off。'



The　Editor　interrupted　…　which　is　considered　rude　…　and　said　…



'You're　not　romancing？'



'I　beg　your　pardon？'　said　Oswald。

'Drawing　the　long　bow；　I　mean；'　said　the　Editor。



Oswald　drew　himself　up；　and　said　he　wasn't　a　liar。



The　Editor　only　laughed；　and　said　romancing　and　lying　were　not　at

all　the　same；　only　it　was　important　to　know　what　you　were　playing

at。　　So　Oswald　accepted　his　apology；　and　went　on。



'We　were　hiding　among　the　furze…bushes　one　day；　and　we　saw　him　do

it。　　He　took　off　his　collar；　and　he　put　on　a　clean　one；　and　he

threw　the　other　among　the　furze…bushes。　　We　picked　it　up

afterwards；　and　it　was　a　beastly　paper　one！'



'Thank　you；'　said　the　Editor；　and　he　got　up　and　put　his　hand　in　his

pocket。　　'That's　well　worth　five　shillings；　and　there　they　are。　

Would　you　like　to　see　round　the　printing　offices　before　you　go

home？'



I　pocketed　my　five　bob；　and　thanked　him；　and　I　said　we　should　like

it　very　much。　　He　called　another　gentleman　and　said　something　we

couldn't　hear。　　Then　he　said　good…bye　again；　and　all　this　time　Noel

hadn't　said　a　word。　　But　now　he　said；　'I've　made　a　poem　about　you。　

It　is　called　〃Lines　to　a　Noble　Editor。〃　Shall　I　write　it　down？'



The　Editor　gave　him　the　blue　pencil；　and　he　sat　down　at　the

Editor's　table　and　wrote。　　It　was　this；　he　told　me　afterwards　as

well　as　he　could　remember　…





May　Life's　choicest　blessings　be　your　lot

I　think　you　ought　to　be　very　blest

For　you　are　going　to　print　my　poems　…

And　you　may　have　this　one　as　well　as　the　rest。





'Thank　you；'　said　the　Editor。　　'I　don't　think　I　ever　had　a　poem

addressed　to　me　before。　　I　shall　treasure　it；　I　assure　you。'



Then　the　other　gentleman　said　something　about　Maecenas；　and　we　went

off　to　see　the　printing　office　with　at　least　one　pound　seven　in　our

pockets。



It　was　good　hunting；　and　no　mi