To Tembarom this was a magnificent experience. The literary
suggestion implied by being "on a newspaper" was more than he had
hoped for. If you have sold newspapers, and slept in a barrel or
behind a pile of lumber in a wood-yard, to report a fire in a street-
car shed seems a flight of literature. He applied himself to the
careful study of newspapers--their points of view, their style of
phrasing. He believed them to be perfect. To attain ease in
expressing himself in their elevated language he felt to be the
summit of lofty ambition. He had no doubts of the exaltation of his
ideal. His respect and confidence almost made Galton cry at times,
because they recalled to him days when he had been nineteen and had
regarded New York journalists with reverence. He liked Tembarom more
and more. It actually soothed him to have him about, and he fell into
giving him one absurd little chance after another. When he brought in
"stuff" which bore too evident marks of utter ignorance, he actually
touched it up and used it, giving him an enlightening, ironical hint
or so. Tembarom always took the hints with gratitude. He had no
mistaken ideas of his own powers. Galton loomed up before him a sort
of god, and though the editor was a man with a keen, though wearied,
brain and a sense of humor, the situation was one naturally
productive of harmonious relations. He was of the many who
unknowingly came in out of the cold and stood in the glow of
Tembarom's warm fire, or took refuge from the heat in his cool breeze.
He did not know of the private, arduous study of journalistic style,
and it was not unpleasing to see that the nice young cub was
gradually improving. Through pure modest fear or ridicule, Tembarom
kept to himself his vaulting ambition. He practised reports of fires,
weddings, and accidents in his hall bedroom.