CHAPTER IX
I
B ob was generously astonished with what had been accomplished in his absence. When Valerie walked in at nine he sprang out of his chair with enthusiasm.
“Val, you are a brick. That job for Townshend is a stroke. Benton will be awfully pleased. Looks as if he might be on our side. And that leader of yours on the fire is one of the best things I ever saw. Mrs. Benton read it to us last night.”
“It was a good leader, wasn’t it? But I didn’t write it.” She turned to the hook where she hung her hat and coat.
“You didn’t! Why, Val, it wasn’t quoted,” he said, and his tone implied that she had made a blunder.
“It didn’t have to be, Bob. Mr. Barrington wrote it for me.” She was sorry to see that heavy frown form over his eyes.
“Barrington wrote it! How the devil did he come to write it? Look here, Val, I don’t want him to have anything to do with this paper, if you don’t mind.” He dropped down into his chair.
“Well, you can’t stop him bringing in news, Bob. He’s a friend of Benton’s. He came in on Thursday night with that stuff about Lord Reaver’s son and the fortune just as I was trying to write the leader, and I was most beastly ill with a headache, and he stayed and did it for me. Rather decent, I thought.”
Bob was a bit ashamed of his reaction. Valerie sat
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