er an interval
he still remained silent the lad shifted uneasily from one foot to the
other and remarked:

"I guess I'll be going along, sir. The half hour you were to give me is
up."

Then Mr. Carter spoke.

"Will you shake hands with me, my boy, before you go, or have you too
poor an opinion of me for that?"

"Indeed I haven't a poor opinion of you, Mr. Carter," replied Paul, with
hearty sincerity. "You have always been mighty good to me. It's true I
didn't like your _March Hare_ proposition but--"

"Your father hasn't much use for me either, I'm afraid," Mr. Carter
observed moodily.

"Dad thinks you bought up the election."

"He's right. I set out to win a majority in this town and I did it. But
in order to beat a man as white as your father I had to resort to a
pretty poor weapon. Everything was with him. Measured up side by side we
weren't in the same class. He was by far the better man and I knew it. I
couldn't beat him as to character but I could do it with money, and I
did. It was a contemptible game. I've always despised myself for playing
it. I wish you'd tell your dad so."

Paul could scarcely credit his ears.

"And about this school business," went on Mr. Carter--"you were just
right, son. The school should continue the paper along the lines on
which you have started it. It ought to remain the property of the
students, too. All is, if next year they care to have the _Echo_ print
it, we'll donate the labor free. The school can pay the actual cost of
materials and I'll see to the rest of it. I can afford to do one decent
thing for Burmingham, I guess."

"Oh, Mr. Carter," gasped Paul, "that would be--"

But the man interrupted him.

"And there's a second-hand typewriter lying round here somewhere that
you can have if you like. We are getting a new one of another make. You
won't find this much worn I reckon, and I guess you can manage to get
some work out of it. I'll send it round to your house to-morrow in my
car."

"Why, sir, I can't--"

The great man put out his hand kindly.

"There, there, run along! I'm busy," he said. "Don't forget my message
to your father."

"No, sir."

Then he added hurriedly:

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Carter."

"That's all right," nodded the publisher, cutting him short. "I've
always had the greatest respect for your father. Tell him from me that
he needn't be ashamed of his son."

With these parting words he waved Paul out of the office and the