Part 13 (1/2)
”Let me see,” said Hilda, a trifle absent-mindedly, ”were you here last cold weather--I rather imagine you were, weren't you?”
”I was; I had the pleasure of--”
”To be sure. You got the place in December, when that poor fellow Baker died. Baker was a country-bred, I know, but he always kept his contracts, while you got your polish in Glesca, and your name is Macphairson--isn't it?”
”I was never in Gla.s.scow in my life, and my name is Macandrew,” said the manager, putting with some aggressiveness a paper-weight on a pile of bills.
”Never mind,” said Hilda, again wrapped in thought, ”don't apologise--it's near enough. Well, Mr. Macandrew”--her tone came to a point--”what is the Stanhope Company's advertis.e.m.e.nt worth a month to the _Chronicle_?”
”A hundred rupees, maybe--there or thereabouts,” and Mr. Macandrew, with a vast show of indifference, picked up a letter and began to tear at the end of it.
”One hundred and fifty-five, I think, to be precise. That communication will wait, won't it? What is it--Kally Nath Mitter's paper and stores bill? You won't be able to pay it any quicker if we withdraw our advertis.e.m.e.nt.”
”Why should ye withdraw it?”
”It was given to you on the understanding that notices should appear of every Wednesday and Sat.u.r.day's performance. For two Wednesdays there has been no notice, and last Sat.u.r.day night you sent a fool.”
”So Muster Stanhope thinks o' withdrawin' his advertis.e.m.e.nt?”
”He is very much of that mind.”
The manager put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, leaned back in his chair, and demonstrated the principle that had given him a gold watch chain--”Never be bluffed.”
”Ye can withdraw it,” he said, with a warily experimental eye upon her.
”How reasonable of you not to make a fuss! We'll have the order to discontinue in writing, please. If you give me a pen and paper--thanks--and I'll keep a copy.”
”Stanhope has wanted to transfer it to the _Market Gazette_ for some time,” she went on as she wrote.
”That's not a newspaper. You'll get no notices there.”
”Cheaper on that account, probably.”
”They charge like the very deevil. D'ye know the rates of them?”
”I can't say I do.”
”There's a man on our staff that doesn't like your show. We'll be able to send him every night now.”
”When we withdraw our advertis.e.m.e.nt?”
”Just then.”
”All right,” said Hilda. ”It will be interesting to point out in the _Indian Empire_ the remarkable growth of independent criticism in the _Chronicle_ since Mr. Stanhope no longer uses the s.p.a.ce at his disposal.
I hope your man will be very nasty indeed. You might as well hand over the permanent pa.s.ses--the gentleman will expect, I suppose, to pay.”
”They'll be in the yeditorial department,” said Mr. Macandrew, but he did not summon a messenger to go for them. Instead he raised his eyebrows in a manner that expressed the necessity of making the best of it, and humourously scratched his head.
”We have four hundred pounds of new type coming out in the _Almora_--she's due on Thursday,” he said. ”Entirely for the advertis.e.m.e.nts. We'll have a fine display next week. It's grand type--none of your Calcutta-made stuff.”
”Pays to bring it out, does it?” asked Hilda, inattentively, copying her letter.