“I will do it myself,” said the public utilitarian. “I have had more experience than you in handling newspaper men.” “All right. But--easy does it. Remember, this is no A. M. Wymett.” “If it were, I should leave it entirely in your hands,” retorted the magnate. Judge Dana left, reflecting pungently upon his employer’s capacity for unnecessarily disagreeable speeches. “If he tries that on Robson he’ll get bumped, or I miss my guess,” he surmised, and found some satisfaction in the thought. Nothing, however, could have been farther from the mind of President Clark. He purposed treating the young newspaper man kindly. Firmly, but kindly. Even benevolently. Point out to him the error he was committing: show him that he was unwittingly an enemy to civic interests and progress which could best be left to those equipped by experience and under Providence, for handling large affairs: indicate to him, delicately, wherein his own interests and those of his newspaper were consonant with the interests of such public benefactors as Montrose Clark and the P.-U. That was the way to handle a presumably reasonable young fellow with a property to consider! In his satisfied mind, the public utilitarian outlined the course of the conversation, with himself (naturally) as converser and his visitor contributing the antiphony of grateful assent. Summoning the hand-perfected private secretary, Mr. Clark entrusted to his reverent care a summons for Mr. Jeremy Robson. The message was duly transferred to the ’phone. It found the editor imparting some instructions to his new office boy and loyal personal heeler, Burton Higman. At the call which informed him that the Fenchester P.-U. Corporation office was on the ’phone, Jeremy’s mind reverted to the interview of some months before when Mr. Montrose Clark had issued his god-like directions to the fuming but helpless “rippawtah” from The Record, and an unholy light shone in his eye. “What is it?” he asked. “This is Mr. Garson, Mr. Montrose Clark’s private secretary.” “Go ahead.” “Mr. Clark wishes to see you.” “What about?” “Is that necessary?” queried the voice, in a tone of startled rebuke. “It’s usual.” “He will doubtless explain, himself,” said the voice, after a pause. “All right,” said Jeremy. “Three o’clock this afternoon,” specified the great man’s mouthpiece, and shut off. Such was the Montrose Clark method with inferiors. Time and the wish were stated. The place was assumed. A newspaper man was a natural inferior according to the Montrose Clark measure. The weak point of the theory, in this instance, was that the other party to the transaction had not subscribed to it. He returned to his writing. At three-ten the hand-perfected private secretary was on the ’phone again. “Mr. Garson speaking. Mr. Clark is waiting.” “So am I.” “I don’t understand.” The tone was incredulous. “Put Mr. Clark on the ‘phone,” suggested the editor. “He may be quicker of comprehension.”