The three seemed to be consulting, but I could not understand what they said, or why Mr.Jack laughed.
A fourth man, who had been writing busily at a desk near by, broke in on the consultation.
"That's enough, boys," he said, "that's enough.

Take the young lady to Mr.Hurd." Mr.Hurd, it was found, was away on a vacation, and of several other editors in several offices, to whom I was referred, none proved to be the proper editor to take charge of a poem about George Washington.

At last an elderly editor suggested that as Mr.Hurd would be away for some time, I would do well to give up the "Transcript" and try the "Herald," across the way.
A little tired by my wanderings, and bewildered by the complexity of the editorial system, but still confident about my mission, I picked my way across Washington Street and found the "Herald" offices.

Here I had instant good luck.

The first editor I addressed took my paper and invited me to a seat.