On its way to the standing-galley Tilbury's notice got pied.
Otherwise it would have gone into some future edition, for WEEKLY
SAGAMORES do not waste "live" matter, and in their galleys "live"
matter is immortal, unless a pi accident intervenes. But a thing
that gets pied is dead, and for such there is no resurrection;
its chance of seeing print is gone, forever and ever. And so,
let Tilbury like it or not, let him rave in his grave to his fill,
no matter--no mention of his death would ever see the light in the
WEEKLY SAGAMORE.
CHAPTER IV
Five weeks drifted tediously along. The SAGAMORE arrived regularly on
the Saturdays, but never once contained a mention of Tilbury Foster.
Sally's patience broke down at this point, and he said, resentfully:
"Damn his livers, he's immortal!"
Aleck give him a very severe rebuke, and added with icy solemnity:
"How would you feel if you were suddenly cut out just after such
an awful remark had escaped out of you?"
Without sufficient reflection Sally responded:
"I'd feel I was lucky I hadn't got caught with it IN me."
Pride had forced him to say something, and as he could not think
of any rational thing to say he flung that out. Then he stole a base
--as he called it--that is, slipped from the presence, to keep from
being brayed in his wife's discussion-mortar.
Six months came and went. The SAGAMORE was still silent about Tilbury.
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