He reduced the problem to its simplest form? To bring this about he would preach Brotherhood.
To stop the mouths that thereupon would call him Socialist he would cover his effort.
Then, in the chemical reactions of his mind, something flashed! He would do something to attract the best element. That would bring in the mob. What begins by being fashionable always ends by being popular. Nobody had ever thought of making goodness a fad. Hence, poverty, and therefore wealth!
About 11 P.M. an excited feminine voice, without the slightest trace of Yiddish--indeed, more fashionable than a Fifth Avenue voice ever dared to be--called up, one after another, the city editors of the best papers and asked:
"Is it true that Grace Goodchild has eloped with Hendrik Rutgers?"
"It is not true! _It is not true!_" shrieked the voice in the highest pitch of dismay and rang on.
Having been told that it was not true, the city editors, after vainly trying to get the speaker again, honorably called up the Goodchild residence.
That was enough corroboration for any intelligent man, but the city editors despatched their most reliable reporters to the former residence of the bride. Being prudent men, the editors prepared the photographs, and the head-line was all a matter of final punctuation:
It remained for the make-up man to put a "!" or a "?" after "ELOPES."
The reporters could not get to either Mr. or Mrs. Goodchild or to H. R. or Grace. The papers therefore did not say that the young people, whose courtship was a Fifth Avenue romance, had eloped. That might not be true. But they printed Grace's photographs and H. R.'s and reviewed H. R.'s meteoric career and called the rumor a rumor. That was common sense.
Also, all the newspapers spoke about the Montagues and the Capulets. At about 2.30 A.M. the reporters returned with expurgated versions of Mr. Goodchild's denial. But the pages were cast. The late city editions honorably printed:
Mr. Goodchild, when seen early this morning, denied the rumor.
It was thus, at one stroke, that the nuptials of Grace Goodchild and H. R. were definitely placed among the probabilities. The average New-Yorker now knew it was only a matter of days.
H. R. dressed to resemble an undertaker, but wearing a beautiful orchid to show he did not do it for a living, called a taxicab, drove to the Diocesan House and sent in his card to the Bishop of New York.