Part 5 (1/2)
”Well, they won't put mine in,” said her sister. ”It's horrid. I shall go right off now and have it taken again.”
”They'll interview the Ded!”
”No, no,” said Mr. Bunting terrified. ”Your mother----”
”It's your place, my dear,” said Mrs. Bunting.
”But the Ded--” said Fred.
”I couldn't,” said Mr. Bunting.
”Well, some one'll have to tell 'em anyhow,” said Mrs. Bunting. ”You know, they will----”
”But it isn't at all what I wanted,” wailed the Sea Lady, with the _Daily Gunfire_ in her hand. ”Can't it be stopped?”
”You don't know our journalists,” said Fred.
The tact of my cousin Melville saved the situation. He had dabbled in journalism and talked with literary fellows like myself. And literary fellows like myself are apt at times to be very free and outspoken about the press. He heard of the Buntings' shrinking terror of publicity as soon as he arrived, a perfect clamour--an almost exultant clamour indeed, of shrinking terror, and he caught the Sea Lady's eye and took his line there and then.
”It's not an occasion for sticking at trifles, Mrs. Bunting,” he said.
”But I think we can save the situation all the same. You're too hopeless. We must put our foot down at once; that's all. Let _me_ see these reporter fellows and write to the London dailies. I think I can take a line that will settle them.”
”Eh?” said Fred.
”I can take a line that will stop it, trust me.”
”What, altogether?”
”Altogether.”
”How?” said Fred and Mrs. Bunting. ”You're not going to bribe them!”
”Bribe!” said Mr. Bunting. ”We're not in France. You can't bribe a British paper.”
(A sort of subdued cheer went around from the a.s.sembled Buntings.)
”You leave it to me,” said Melville, in his element.
And with earnestly expressed but not very confident wishes for his success, they did.
He managed the thing admirably.
”What's this about a mermaid?” he demanded of the local journalists when they returned. They travelled together for company, being, so to speak, emergency journalists, compositors in their milder moments, and unaccustomed to these higher aspects of journalism. ”What's this about a mermaid?” repeated my cousin, while they waived precedence dumbly one to another.
”I believe some one's been letting you in,” said my cousin Melville.
”Just imagine!--a mermaid!”
”That's what we thought,” said the younger of the two emergency journalists. ”We knew it was some sort of hoax, you know. Only the _New Paper_ giving it a headline----”