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TALES FROM A ROLLTOP DESK

"Of course I shouldn't care for a merely routine position," said Sanford. "The only position I would consider would be one in which I could really build up circulation for you." He was wondering inwardly whether to stand out for a ten thousand salary.

"Quite so," said Mr. Birdlip. "I think I have it. How would you care to run a column? 'Straight From the Shoulder'—wouldn't that be a fine title?"

"Fine!" said Sanford, but not without a secret shudder. Still, he thought, gold can assuage anything; and he reflected on the rich, sedentary, and care-free life of a syndicated philosopher.

"Very well," said the owner. "I've been looking around for a man with both feet on the ground———"

("Both feet on the pay envelope is my idea," said Sanford to himself.)

"And I think you're just the man I want. There's only one place in the paper I can think of that really needs a change. There's a fellow on the staff called Sanford, runs a kind of column, terrible stuff. I don't think he amounts to much. Now why couldn't you take his job?"

Sanford has never forgiven his brother-in-law for that curious strangled sound he emitted.

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