Editor’s Table
Reading edition
“Here we are,” exclaimed Richard Cory tritely; “the usual archaisms.”
“Do you mean us?” asked little Bukis innocently.
“No, you fool!” this from Ahaseurus, who was still wearing goloshes. “He is referring to the manuscripts.”
Bukis flew into a passion at this and started seething through the book reviews. There was a blare of trumpets, a rush of wind, and in burst the red-faced Benson.
Benson started throwing poems all over Bukis, who objected. He then took Richard Cory into a corner, and the two of them decided to go over to the Elizabethan Club to hear Steve Benét. Bukis had a meeting of Christians. They all left. The Egoist had resigned, anyway, and was not to be found. They had all gone.
All but Ahaseurus. He sat there meditatively with his hands in his overcoat pockets. Shivering, he bent over the piles of cold, white paper. And, in the grey silence of the shadows, he made up the Lit.
Ahaseurus.