rouble is," said he with great deliberation, "that we _do_ print
the truth in the _Star_; but this new generation, fed upon luxury and
ease, has lost its desire for the truth. We're preaching the same sound
doctrine that we've preached for thirty years--but the people refuse the
truth. They say to us, 'Prophesy not unto us right things. Speak unto us
smooth things, prophesy deceits.' They are wandering in the wilderness.
They have made unto themselves a graven image of free trade, and they
are falling down and worshipping before the profane altar of what they
are pleased to call the Rights of Women. Rights of Women!"

Whenever the old Captain grew most eloquent he always waxed Biblical.

Here Nort broke in again:

"Well, if you don't like that report--I wrote it more than half in fun
anyway--here's another. It's the truth--I felt it, too, David--and I
haven't used a single name!"

I can see him yet, sitting up there behind the table, quite rigid,
reading from his manuscript:

"There is a man in this town who quarrels regularly with his
wife. He quarrelled with her this morning at breakfast: said
the eggs were overdone and the coffee was cold. The sun was
shining in at the window, the birds were singing, and the
grass was green--but he was quarrelling with his wife----"

Well, Nort had a breathless audience! This time he was in deadly
earnest. His sketch was not long, but it was as vivid a picture of the
torment of domestic unhappiness as ever I have seen in such brief
compass. Moreover, it had the very passion, the cut and thrust of the
truth of things.

No sooner had he finished reading than Harriet leaned forward and asked
in a half whisper, all ablaze with shocked interest.

"Who is it? Is it the Newtons?"

It was Nort's turn to look surprised.

"Why, no," said he. "I don't know the Newtons at all."

"But you must have had some one in mind."

"No," said Nort; "it's just a description of how married people
quarrel."

"But it's exactly what the Newtons do," said Harriet.

Here the old Captain broke in.

"Why," said he, "if we printed a thing like that we'd lose all the
advertising of Newton's store. We'd lose the whole Newton family, and
their cousins, the Maxwells, and _their_ connections, the Mecklins.
Why----"

"But it's true, it's true!" Nort burst in. "And every one of you was
more interested in it, I could see that, than in anything we ever put in
the _Star_--since I'