"The dad says he has never met Mr. Springthorpe, and a good thing for his idea of journalism. Not that old Spring doesn't strike you well enough at first meeting; but you'll soon find him out," Edgar said to Henry when they were alone in the parlour. "He seemed very considerate, I thought, when my father and I called on him. A little pompous, perhaps." "Oh, you've noticed that! You'll see more of it by-and-by. But he can be wonderfully considerate when there is a nice little premium attached to a new pupil. Your pater must have come down handsome on the spot, for the Balmy One has been swaggering around in a new frock-suit and shiny topper since you were engaged. Let me be frank with you, and tell you at once that you needn't expect anything of value out of our gorgeous chief. What you learn you'll have to pick up from Bertram and myself, and from Yardley the sub." "I understood that I was really Mr. Springthorpe's pupil." "You're not the first that understood that; but really it doesn't matter, for you'll get there all the same, as they say in the song. You'll have lots to do and you'll soon learn, but don't fancy old Spring is going to sit down and teach you. His duty ends when he converts your premium into clothing for the outer, and refreshment for the inner man. A good sort, but fond o' the bottle, like so many clever journalists." "And were you a pupil also before you became a full reporter?" "Not on the _Guardian_. I served six months as a junior on the _Advertiser_, and received the order of the sack at the end of that time, as they had no further use for services which had begun to require a weekly fifteen bob. Luckily, the _Guardian_ was in a hole at the time, both the chief reporter and his assistant having given notice, and the pupil then flourishing was a hopeless youngster, who has since returned to the business of his father, who is in the aerated water trade. So I was engaged at once, and on the noble salary of fifteen bob a week I remain to this day, although I was promised an increase at the end of twelve months, and I have been on the staff for sixteen. I occasionally pick up a bit of lineage, and that helps to pan out, you know; but I'm only hanging on until something better turns up elsewhere, and then good-bye to the _Guardian_. My ambition is Birmingham." "Birmingham! Wouldn't you rather like to get to London?" "Who wouldn't? But I have the sense to know I'm not cut out for Fleet Street. In any case, no London editor would look at a man from Wheelton. You must have experience on a good provincial daily before thinking of London Town." "I'm surprised, for Mr. Trevor Smith told me of many London editors who used to be on local papers like--our own." "Trevor Smith is an ass. He knows as much about journalism as a monkey knows of algebra. He can't write for nuts. Most of his copy has to be rewritten by Yardley before it's fit to print."