It is astonishing how cunningly life prepares for its explosions, how adroitly it combines the nitre, the charcoal, the sulphur, of human nature. First it grinds the ingredients separately--as Ed Smith was being ground, as the spirit of Norton Carr was ground--and then it mixes them in a mill, say a pleasant country printing-office, with a wren's nest at the gable end, and there it subjects them to the enormous pressure of necessity, of passion, of ambition. And when the mixture is made, though the fuse which life lays may be long, the explosion is sure to follow. A spark, say a stick of pied type, or a vagabond printer absurdly looking for the truth of things, or the look in a girl's eyes, and, bang--the world will never again be exactly what it was before. Events moved swiftly with the _Star_ of Hempfield that forenoon. You would not believe that so much could happen in a drowsy country printing-office, on a drowsy Monday morning, in so short a time. I was there when Nort came in, all unsuspecting. He came in quietly, not at all like himself; he was, in fact, low in his spirits. He glanced at Ed Smith, and began, as usual, to take off his coat in the corner. Ed was sitting at his desk fiercely at work. "Carr," said he, scarcely turning his head, "you needn't take off your coat. Won't need you any longer. Gotta economize. Gotta cut down expenses. I'll pay you what's coming to you right now." There was a moment of absolute silence in the office. Tom, the cat, was asleep by the stove. Fergus and I waited breathlessly. I fully expected to see Nort explode; I didn't know in just what way, but somehow, in Nort's way, whatever that might be. But he merely stood there, coat half off, looking utterly mystified. Ed turned halfway around. "Here's your money," he said. The thing in all its crude reality was still incomprehensible to Nort. He didn't know that such things were ever done in the world. "You mean----" he stammered. Ed was very angry. I excuse him somewhat on that ground, and Nort was only a tramp printer anyway. "You're fired," he said doggedly, "and here's your wages to date." I wish I could describe the effect on Nort. It was as though some light air blew across him. He had looked heavy and depressed when he came in: now his shoulders straightened, his chin lifted, and the old, reckless smile came into his face. He swept us all with a look of amused astonishment, and then, slipping back into his coat, said: "Well, good-bye, Mr. Smith," and turned and went out of the office. Ed jumped from his chair. "Here's your cash," he said. But Nort had gone out. "Well, I'll be hanged!" observed Ed, quickly putting the money back in his pocket. I am slow, slow! I have always wished since then that I had been quick enough to do what Fergus did. It was not that I did not love Nort----