r the
purpose of getting there. To become news, to be interesting to the
public in some way--in any way--is the quickest way. Then you can pick
your own way, a way that will commend itself to the well-bred
nonentities who never accomplish anything. Well, I am famous; and it's
up to me to decide what I shall do in the future to take advantage of
the fact that when people hear of H. R., or see those two initials in
print, they look for something interesting to follow. The least of my
troubles is that I shall become one of your respected depositors. I
don't drink; I am healthy--no taint of any kind, hereditary or acquired;
I don't have to lie to get what I want or cheat to get all the money I
need--and I need a lot. I've got ideas, and I don't fall down in
carrying them out, because I don't go on at half-cock. I never move
until I see my destination; and if there is a wall ahead I have my
scaling-ladder all ready long before I arrive at the wall."

H. R. paused, and then went on more slowly: "When you get over your
soreness at the raw deal the newspapers have given you, you will be glad
to have a man of brains in your house. I don't want you to give Grace
anything; but I tell you now I'm going to marry her, and you'd better
begin to be reconciled to the idea of having me for a son-in-law. I want
to be your friend, because I'm quite sure you will not enjoy having me
for your enemy--not after I begin the counter attack."

It is always the delivery that does it, as Demosthenes triply assured
posterity. Mr. Goodchild's eyes had not left H. R.'s face and he had
listened intently to the speech. He did not grasp in full all that H. R.
had said; but what really had emptied Mr. Goodchild of anger, and
filled him with an interest which was not very different from respect,
was the delivery. H. R.'s faculty of knowing how to speak to a
particular auditor was instinctive. It always is, with all such men,
whether they are famous or obscure, orators or life-insurance agents. It
is very simple when you are born with it.

Mr. Goodchild, however, finding his own weapons of offense more
dangerous to himself than to the foe, fell back on defense. To do so, he
naturally began with a lie. That is the worst of verbal defenses.

"I don't object to you personally. I--I even admit that I made a mistake
in not promoting you, though I don't know what position you could have
filled here that would have suited you--"

"None; because you don't real