you really did the
work. Which reminds me I have a cheque of yours now," he ended boldly.
"That'll make it right for the coming month, anyhow."

He hunted out Goldsmith's final cheque, and tendered it sheepishly.

"Oh no, I can't take it now," said little Sampson. He folded his arms,
and drew his cloak around him like a toga. No August sun ever divested
little Sampson of his cloak.

"Has Goldsmith agreed to your terms, then?" inquired Raphael timidly.

"Oh no, not he. But--"

"Then I must go on paying the difference," said Raphael decisively. "I
am responsible to you that you get the salary you're used to; it's my
fault that things are changed, and I must pay the penalty," He crammed
the cheque forcibly into the pocket of the toga.

"Well, if you put it in that way," said little Sampson, "I won't say I
couldn't do with it. But only as a loan, mind."

"All right," murmured Raphael.

"And you'll take it back when my comic opera goes on tour. You won't
back out?"

"No."

"Give us your hand on it," said little Sampson huskily. Raphael gave him
his hand, and little Sampson swung it up and down like a baton.

"Hang it all! and that man calls himself a Jew!" he thought. Aloud he
said: "When my comic opera goes on tour."

They returned to the editorial den, where they found Pinchas raging, a
telegram in his hand.

"Ah, the Man-of-the-Earth!" he cried. "All my beautiful peroration he
spoils." He crumpled up the telegram and threw it pettishly at little
Sampson, then greeted Raphael with effusive joy and hilarity. Little
Sampson read the telegram. It ran as follows:

"Last sentence of Gideon leader. 'It is too early yet in this moment of
grief to speculate as to his successor in the constituency. But,
difficult as it will be to replace him, we may find some solace in the
thought that it will not be impossible. The spirit of the illustrious
dead would itself rejoice to acknowledge the special qualifications of
one whose name will at once rise to every lip as that of a brother Jew
whose sincere piety and genuine public spirit mark him out as the one
worthy substitute in the representation of a district embracing so many
of our poor Jewish brethren. Is it too much to hope that he will be
induced to stand?' Goldsmith."

"That's a cut above Henry," murmured little Sampson, who knew nearly
everything, save the facts he had to supply to the public. "He wired to
the wife, and it's hers. Well, it saves him from writing