When I looked around Fergus was gone. He had slipped out of the back door. He caught Nort at the gate, and grasped his hand so hard that Nort said it hurt him for a week afterward. He tried to say something, but his face worked so that he couldn't. Then he was suddenly ashamed of himself, and came running back into the office, his hair flying wildly. Tom, the cat, at that moment rising from his favourite spot near the stove, Fergus kicked at him vigorously--without hitting him. Ed now began to stride about the office, head a little lifted, a bold look in the eye. He saw neither Fergus nor me. He was in a grand mood. I always imagined he must have felt at that moment something like Fitz-James when he met Roderick Dhu: Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I. He did not have long to wait. We heard the old Captain on the steps, thumping his cane, clearing his throat. I shall never forget how he looked when he came in at the door, his tall, soldierly figure, the long, shabby black coat, the thick silvery hair under the broad-brimmed hat, the beaming eye of him. Ever since the publication of his editorial on William J. Bryan, the Captain had been in great spirits. "Nort!" he called, as he set down his cane. No answer. "Where's Nort?" he boomed. "Fergus, where's Nort? I want to show him my editorial on Theodore Roosevelt." Ominous silence. The old Captain looked up and about him. Fergus was busy at the cases. "Where's Nort?" asked the old Captain sharply, this time directing his question at Ed Smith. "I've fired him," said Ed. "Got to cut down expenses." "You--fired--Nort?" The old Captain's voice sounded as though it came from the bottom of a well. "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."