"Haring sent it to him?"

"Not at all. The useful and ubiquitous Ives, snooping as usual, came
upon it. Hence it is now in Marrineal's hands. Likely to remain there, I
should think."

"Mr. Marrineal won't let it be published?" asked Io.

"That's my guess," returned the veteran.

"And mine," added Banneker.

He felt her eyes of mute appeal fixed on him and read her meaning.

"All right, Io," he promised quietly. "If Mr. Marrineal won't print it
in advertising, I'll print it as editorial."

"When?" Io and Edmonds spoke in one breath.

"Day after to-morrow."

"That's war," said Edmonds.

"In a good cause," declared Io proudly.

"The cause of the independence of Errol Banneker," said the veteran. "It
was bound to come. Go in and win, son. I'll get you a proof of the ad."

"Ban!" said Io with brightened regard.

"Well?"

"Will you put something at the head of your column for me, if that
editorial appears?"

"What? Wait! I know. The quotation from the Areopagitica. Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Fine! I'll do it."

On the following morning The Patriot appeared as usual. The first of the
Manufacturers' Association arguments to the public was conspicuously
displayed. Of the strikers' reply--not a syllable. Banneker went to
Haring's office; found the business manager gloomy, but resigned.

"Mr. Marrineal turned it down. He's got the right. That's all there is
to it," was his version.

"Not quite," remarked Banneker, and went home to prove it.

Into the editorial which was to constitute the declaration of Errol
Banneker's independence went much thinking, and little writing. The
pronunciamento of the strikers, prefaced by a few words of explanation,
and followed by some ringing sentences as to the universal right to a
fair field, was enough. At the top of the column the words of Milton, in
small, bold print. Across the completed copy he wrote "Thursday. Must."

Never had Banneker felt in finer fettle for war than when he awoke that
Thursday morning. Contrary to his usual custom, he did not even look at
the copy of The Patriot brought to his breakfast table; he wanted to
have that editorial fresh to eye and mind when Marrineal called him to
account for it. For this was a challenge which Marrineal could not
ignore. He breakfasted with a copy of "The Undying Voices" propped
behind his coffee cup, refreshing himself before battle with the
delights of allusive memory, bringing back the days when he and lo had
read