people can read English."

"Yes, some people can't read English."

"I guess you are right," Caruthers laughed. "But they say you can read
Greek like shelling corn, and that will have a big effect with a jury.
Just tell them that the New Testament was written in Greek, and then
give them a few spurts of it, and they've got to come. I had a little
Latin and I did very well with it, but a fellow came along who knew
more of it than I did and crowded me out of my place."

Just then the editor came in. He looked about, nodded at Lyman, whom
he had met earlier in the day, and then sat down, with a sigh.

"Well, I have got a good send off for you fellows--already in type,
but I lack eighty cents of having money enough to get my paper out of
the express office."

No one said anything, for this was sad news. Warren continued: "Yes, I
lack just eighty cents. It's about as good a notice as I ever read,
and it's a pity to let it lie there and rust. Of course I wouldn't ask
either of you for the money: That wouldn't look very well. Eighty
cents, two forties. I could go to some of the advertisers, but an
advertiser loses respect for a paper that needs eighty cents."

"Warren," said Caruthers, "I'd like to see your paper come out, for I
want to read my roast on the last legislature, but I haven't eighty
cents."

Lyman sat looking about with a dozing laugh on his lips: "Are you sure
you'll not need eighty cents every week?" he asked.

The editor's eyes danced a jig of delight. "I may never need it
again," he declared.

"Well, but how often are you going to print a notice of the firm?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Well, I didn't know but your paper might get stuck in the express
office every time you have something about us. It's likely to go that
way, you know. I've got a few dollars--"

The editor grabbed his hand: "I want to welcome you to our town," he
cried. "You come here with energy and new life. Now, Caruthers, what
the deuce are you laughing at? You know that no one appreciates a man
of force and ideas more than I do. Just let me have the eighty, Mr.
Lyman, for I've got a nigger ready to turn the press. Now, I'm ten
thousand times obliged to you," he effusively added as Lyman gave him
the money.

He hastened out and Caruthers leaned back with a lazy laugh. "He told
the truth about needing the money. I've known his paper to be stuck in
the throat of the press, and all for the want of fifty cents. I'm glad
you let him