is hat a little cocked back, and when he was excited he
put both hands in his pockets and began thrusting out his chest until
you were relieved to discover that he was held together by a chain which
ran across him from the vest pocket that contained his watch to the
pocket where he carried his comb and his toothbrush.

Ed had been working himself up into a fine passion. Only ten days away
and everything gone to the bow-wows. The Poems of Hempfield! He held up
the first page of our precious issue, slapped it smooth with his hand,
and glared at it fiercely.

"The Poems of Hempfield!" he remarked with concentrated irony. "What
this broken-down newspaper has got to learn is that it isn't in business
for the fun of it. Poetry! Truth! What we want is cash, hard, cold
cash!"

At this moment Ed began to glare at the paper still more fiercely.

"Where's that reading notice about the electric light company?" he
demanded.

By an imperceptible motion of a hostile shoulder Fergus indicated the
hold-over stone. Ed rushed over and found the precious item, with leads
askew and one corner pied down. He also found the notice of the
candidacy of D. J. McCullum, Democrat, which the old Captain had so
lightly ordered excluded from our issue of the _Star_.

If Anthy herself had appeared at that moment I don't know what might not
have happened. Poor Ed! He had painfully, by hustle and bustle, pieced
together a business which was about to yield a profit, and had scarcely
turned his back when a lot of blunderers (and worse) had begun to mix
everything up. There wasn't enough business sense in the whole crowd of
them----

Ed had still another cause for irritation. He was miserably jealous, and
for the first time in his life. The incident of the previous night, when
Nort had burst in so unceremoniously upon Anthy, and at sight of him had
fled so precipitately, was wholly beyond his comprehension. A tramp
printer, at next to nothing a week! What could he mean by calling on
Anthy, the proprietor, in such a way, and bursting out with a suggestion
about the paper, as though he owned it.

Poor Ed! I shall never forget the picture I have of him--I learned about
it long afterward--standing rather stiffly at the doorway, awkwardly
handling his hat, about to say good-night, and yet not going.

"Anthy," he began, "I came back on purpose to--to make a proposition to
you to-night----"

He published his intention by the very sound of his voice, wh