Esther blushed and meditatively sniffed at her bouquet, but fortunately the rise of the curtain relieved her of the necessity far a reply.  It was only a temporary relief, however, for the quizzical young artist returned to the subject immediately the act was over.

“I know you’re in charge of the aesthetic department of the Flag,” he said.  “I had no idea you wrote the leaders.”

“Don’t be absurd!” murmured Esther.

“I always told Addie Raphael could never write so eloquently; didn’t I, Addie?  Ah, I see you’re blushing to find it fame, Miss Ansell.”

Esther laughed, though a bit annoyed.  “How can you suspect me of writing orthodox leaders?” she asked.

“Well, who else is there?” urged Sidney, with mock naivete.  “I went down there once and saw the shanty.  The editorial sanctum was crowded.  Poor Raphael was surrounded by the queerest looking set of creatures I ever clapped eyes on.  There was a quaint lunatic in a check suit, describing his apocalyptic visions; a dragoman with sore eyes and a grievance against the Board of Guardians; a venerable son of Jerusalem with a most artistic white beard, who had covered the editorial table with carved nick-nacks in olive and sandal-wood; an inventor who had squared the circle and the problem of perpetual motion, but could not support himself; a Roumanian exile with a scheme for fertilizing Palestine; and a wild-eyed hatchet-faced Hebrew poet who told me I was a famous patron of learning, and sent me his book soon after with a Hebrew inscription which I couldn’t read, and a request for a cheque which I didn’t write.  I thought I just capped the company of oddities, when in came a sallow red-haired chap, with the extraordinary name of Karlkammer, and kicked up a deuce of a shine with Raphael for altering his letter.  Raphael mildly hinted that the letter was written in such unintelligible English that he had to grapple with it for an hour before he could reduce it to the coherence demanded of print.  But it was no use; it seems Raphael had made him say something heterodox he didn’t mean, and he insisted on being allowed to reply to his own letter!  He had brought the counter-blast with him; six sheets of foolscap with all the t’s uncrossed, and insisted on signing it with his own name.  I said, ‘Why not?  Set a Karlkammer to answer to a Karlkammer.’  But Raphael said it would make the paper a laughing-stock, and between the dread of that and the consciousness of having done the man a wrong, he was quite unhappy.  He treats all his visitors with angelic consideration, when in another newspaper office the very office-boy would snub them.  Of course, nobody has a bit of consideration for him or his time or his purse.”

“Poor Raphael!” murmured Esther, smiling sadly at the grotesque images conjured up by Sidney’s description.

“I go down there now whenever I want models,” concluded Sidney gravely.

“Well, it is only right to hear what those poor people have to say,” Addie observed.  “What is a paper for except to right wrongs?”