Part 27 (2/2)

Of middle height, well and quietly dressed, with a sober, a.s.sured deportment, he spoke in a voice and accent that were not of the Five Towns; they were superior to the Five Towns. And in fact Mr. Myson originated in Manchester and had seen London. He was not provincial, and he beheld the Five Towns as part of the provinces, which no native of the Five Towns ever succeeds in doing. Nevertheless, his manner to Denry was the summit of easy and yet deferential politeness.

He asked permission ”to put something before” Denry. And when, rather taken aback by such smooth phrases, Denry had graciously accorded the permission, he gave a brief history of the _Five Towns Weekly_, showing how its circulation had grown, and definitely stating that at that moment it was yielding a profit. Then he said:

”Now my scheme is to turn it into a daily.”

”Very good notion!” said Denry instinctively.

”I 'm glad you think so,” said Mr. Myson. ”Because I 've come here in the hope of getting your a.s.sistance. I 'm a stranger to the district, and I want the co-operation of some one who is n't. So I 've come to you. I need money, of course, though I have myself what most people would consider sufficient capital. But what I need more than money is-well-moral support.”

”And who put you on to me?” asked Denry.

Mr. Myson smiled. ”I put myself on to you,” said he. ”I think I may say I 've got my bearings in the Five Towns, after over a year's journalism in it, and it appeared to me that you were the best man I could approach. I always believe in flying high.”

Therein was Denry flattered. The visit seemed to him to seal his position in the district in a way in which his election to the Bursley Town Council had failed to do. He had been somehow disappointed with that election. He had desired to display his interest in the serious welfare of the town, and to answer his opponent's arguments with better ones. But the burgesses of his ward appeared to have no pa.s.sionate love of logic. They just cried ”Good old Denry!” and elected him-with a majority of only forty-one votes. He had expected to feel a different Denry when he could put ”Councillor” before his name. It was not so.

He had been solemnly in the mayoral procession to church, he had attended meetings of the council, he had been nominated to the Watch Committee. But he was still precisely the same Denry, though the youngest member of the council. But now he was being recognised from the outside. Mr. Myson's keen Manchester eye, ranging over the quarter of a million inhabitants of the Five Towns in search of a representative individual force, had settled on Denry Machin. Yes, he was flattered.

Mr. Myson's choice threw a rose light on all Denry's career; his wealth and its origin; his house and stable, which were the astonishment and the admiration of the town; his Universal Thrift Club; yea, and his councillors.h.i.+p. After all, these _were_ marvels. (And possibly the greatest marvel was the signed presence of his mother in that wondrous house, and the fact that she consented to employ Rose Chudd, the incomparable Sappho of charwomen, for three hours every day.)

In fine, he perceived from Mr. Myson's eyes that his position was unique.

And after they had chatted a little, and the conversation had deviated momentarily from journalism to house property, he offered to display Machin House (as he had christened it) to Mr. Myson, and Mr. Myson was really impressed beyond the ordinary. Mr. Myson's homage to Mrs.

Machin, whom they chanced on in the paradise of the bathroom, was the polished mirror of courtesy. How Denry wished that he could behave like that when he happened to meet countesses!

Then, once more in the drawing-room, they resumed the subject of newspapers.

”You know,” said Mr. Myson. ”It 's really a very bad thing indeed for a district to have only one daily newspaper. I 've nothing myself to say against _The Staffords.h.i.+re Signal_, but you 'd perhaps be astonished”-this in a confidential tone-”at the feeling there is against the _Signal_ in many quarters.”

”Really!” said Denry.

”Of course its fault is that it is n't sufficiently interested in the great public questions of the district. And it can't be. Because it can't take a definite side. It must try to please all parties. At any rate it must offend none. That is the great evil of a journalistic monopoly.... Two hundred and fifty thousand people-why! there is an ample public for two first-cla.s.s papers! Look at Nottingham! Look at Bristol! Look at Leeds! Look at Sheffield! ... And _their_ newspapers.”

And Denry endeavoured to look at these great cities! Truly the Five Towns was just about as big.

The dizzy journalistic intoxication seized him. He did not give Mr.

Myson an answer at once, but he gave himself an answer at once. He would go into the immense adventure. He was very friendly with the _Signal_ people-certainly; but business was business, and the highest welfare of the Five Towns was the highest welfare of the Five Towns.

Soon afterwards all the h.o.a.rdings of the district spoke with one blue voice, and said that the _Five Towns Weekly_ was to be transformed into the _Five Towns Daily_, with four editions beginning each day at noon, and that the new organ would be conducted on the lines of a first-cla.s.s evening paper.

The inner ring of knowing ones knew that a company ent.i.tled ”The Five Towns Newspapers, Limited,” had been formed, with a capital of ten thousand pounds, and that Mr. Myson held three thousand pounds' worth of shares, and the great Denry Machin one thousand five hundred, and that the remainder were to be sold and allotted as occasion demanded. The inner ring said that nothing would ever be able to stand up against the _Signal_. On the other hand, it admitted that Denry, the most prodigious card ever born into the Five Towns, had never been floored by anything or anybody. The inner ring antic.i.p.ated the future with glee.

Denry and Mr. Myson antic.i.p.ated the future with righteous confidence.

As for the _Signal_, it went on its august way, calmly blind to sensational h.o.a.rdings.

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