.

"Yes," said Ed crisply, "I hired him--and now I've fired him."

Ed was still much in the mood of Fitz-James. He had always been somewhat
contemptuous of the Captain. He not only regarded him as an old fogy, a
vain old fogy, but as a dead weight upon the _Star_. Ed thought his
editorials worse than nothing at all, and had resolved to get rid of the
Captain at the first opportunity. It was too bad, of course,
but--business is business.

When the Captain did not reply, Ed observed at large:

"The trouble with this office is that you all seem to think we are
printing a newspaper for our health."

"Sold more extra copies of the _Star_ last week than ever before," said
Fergus.

"Yes," responded Ed bitterly, "and left out reading notices that would
have brought in more than all your extras put together. That electric
light announcement, and the notice of Dick McCullum's candidacy----"

At this the old Captain broke in with ominous deliberation.

"I want to know," said he, "if it is now the policy of this newspaper to
support Democrats for money, and fool the people of Hempfield with paid
news about greedy corporations?"

"It's _my_ policy," responded Ed, "to tap shoes for anybody that's got
the price. I'm a practical man."

I never can hope to do justice by the scene which followed. The old
Captain strode a step nearer and rested one hand on the corner of Ed
Smith's desk, a majestic figure of wrath.

[Illustration: "Practical!" he explained. "You are a blackguard, sir!
You are a scoundrel, sir!"]

"Practical!" he exploded. "You are a blackguard, sir! You are a
scoundrel, sir!"

He paused, drawing deep breaths.

"You're a traitor--you're a _Democrat_."

With all his assurance, Ed was completely taken back. He actually looked
frightened. The Captain's tone now changed to one of irony.

"I suppose," he said, "you believe in flying machines."

Ed hesitated.

"And in woman suffrage!"

The art of scorn has fallen sadly into disrepute in these later days.
Scorn fares hardly in an age of doubt and democracy. I can rarely feel
it myself; but as it came rolling out of the old Captain that morning,
I'll admit there was something grand about it.

By this time Ed had begun to recover himself.

"Well, we got to live, haven't we?" he asked.

It was very rare that the old Captain swore, for he was a sound
Churchman, and when he did swear it was with a sort of reverence.

"No, by God," said the Captain, "we hav