But, strangely enough, although the _Star_ editorials sparkled with undimmed lustre, although the obituaries were even longer and more wonderful than ever before--so long as to crowd out some of the items about Johnny Gorman's pigs and Mrs. Hopkins's visits to her sister, although the fine old Captain worked harder than ever, the light of the luminary of Hempfield grew steadily dimmer. Fergus saw it early and it distressed his Scotch soul. Anthy felt it, and soon the whole town knew of the decay of the once thrifty institution in the little old printing-office back from the street. Brother Kendrick, of that nefarious rag, the Sterling _Democrat_, even dared to respond to one of the Captain's most powerful and pungent editorials with a witticism in which he referred to the _Weakly Star_ of Hempfield, and printed "Weakly" in capital letters that no one might miss his joke. It was at this low stage in the orbit of the _Star_ that I came first to the printing-office, trying to discover the man who could shout "Fudge" with such fine enthusiasm--and found myself, quite irresistibly, hitching my wagon to the _Star_. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV ENTER MR. ED SMITH It is only with difficulty thus far in my narrative that I have kept Norton Carr out of it. When you come to know him you will understand why. He is inseparably bound up with every memory I have of the printing-office. The other day, when I was describing my first visit to the establishment of Doane & Doane, I kept seeing the figure of Nort bending over the gasoline engine. I kept hearing him whistle in the infectious low monotone he had, and when I spoke of the printing press I all but called it "Old Harry" (Nort christened the ancient Hoe press, Old Harry, which every one adopted as being an appropriate name). I even half expected to have him break out in my pages with one of his absurd remarks, when I knew well enough that he had no business to be in the story at all. He hadn't come yet, and Anthy and Fergus and the old Captain were positively the only ones there. But Nort, however impatient he may be getting, will have to wait even a little while yet, for notable events were to occur in the printing-office just before he arrived, without which, indeed, he never could have arrived at all. If it had not been for the ploughing and harrowing of Ed Smith, painful as it was to that ancient and sedate institution, the Hempfield _Star_, there never would have been any harvest for Norton Carr, nor for me, nor for Anthy. So good may come even out of evil. As I narrate these preliminary events, however, you will do well to keep in your thought a picture of Nort going about his pleasures--I fear, at that time, somewhat unsteadily--in the great city, not knowing in the least that chance, assisted by a troublesome organ within called a soul, was soon to deposit him in the open streets of a town he had never heard of in all his life, but which was our own familiar town of Hempfield.