And Henry, somewhat confused regarding his ethical position, depressed at the thought that you couldn't rise altogether out of this hard world, that you had to live right in it, compromise with it, let yourself be soiled by it--Henry, his eyes down to beads, flushed about the temples, caught the eight-six to Chicago. He rode out to the West Side on a cable-car. It is an interesting item to note in the rather zig-zag development of Henry's highly emotional nature that he never once weakened during that long ride. He was burning up, of course. It was like that wonderful week when he had written day and night, night and day, the Simpson Street stories. But it was, in a way, glorious. That ethereal electricity was flowing right through him. The Power was on him. He knew, not in his surface mind but in the deeper seat of all belief, in his feelings, that he couldn't be stopped or headed. Not to-night. 5 'You are not altogether clear, Henry. Let me understand this.' The scene was Uncle Arthur's 'den.' Henry had run the gauntlet of his cousins. Rich young cousins, brought up to respect their parents and think themselves poor. It was a proper home, with order, cleanliness, method shining out. He resented it. He resented them all. Uncle Arthur was thin, and penetrating. His eyes bored at you. His nose was sharp, his brow furrowed. It seemed to Henry that he was always scowling a little. His light sharp voice was going on, stating a disentangled, re-arranged version of Henry's extraordinary outbursts:-- 'This man, the town treasurer, is suing you for libel, and you are advised that he has a case? But he will settle for two thousand dollars?' 'Yes. He will.' 'And you have come to me with the idea that I will pay over your mother's money for the purpose?' 'Well, I'll be twenty-one anyway in less'n two months. But that ain't--isn't--it exactly, not all of it. I've really got to have the whole three thousand.' 'Oh, you have?' 'Yes. It's like this. We bought the _Gleaner_, Hump Weaver and I. And we got it cheap, too. Two thousand--for plant, good will, the big press, everything.' 'Hmm!' 'Then I wrote those stories. They jumped our circulation way up. More'n we can afford. Queer about that. Because the paper'd been attacking Charlie Waterhouse, they got the advertiser's to boycott us.' 'Oh!' 'Now Charlie's promised me, if I pay him, to call off the boycott. It'll give us all the Simpson Street advertising. And Hump says we'll fail in a week if we don't get it.' 'Henry!' Uncle Arthur's voice rang out with unpleasant clarity. 'You got from me a thousand dollars of your mother's estate. You sank it in this paper. I let you have that thinking it would bring you to your senses. It has not brought you to your senses. That is evident.... Now I am going to tell you something extremely serious.