'Calverly! What's the matter with you? You look ill. Let me get you a drink.' And Henry heard his own voice saying weakly:-- 'Oh, no, thank you. I never take anything. I just don't feel very well. It's been a--a hard day.' 'Lie down on the sofa then. Rest a little while. For I'm afraid you've got a bit of excitement coming.' Henry did this. Shortly the great little Mr Galbraith returned. He came straight to Henry; stood over' him; glared--angrily, Henry thought, with a fluttering of his wits--down at him. It seemed to Henry that it would be politer to sit up. He did this, but the editor caught his shoulder and pushed him down again. 'No,' he cried, 'stay as you were. If you're tired, rest! Nothing so important--nothing! If I had learned that one small lesson twenty years ago, I'd be sole owner of my business to-day. Rest--that's the thing! And the stomach. Two-thirds of our troubles are swallowed down our throats. What do you eat?' 'I--I don't know's I----' 'For breakfast, say! What did you eat this morning for breakfast?' 'Well, I had an orange, and some oatmeal, and----' 'Wait! Stop right there! Wrong at the beginning. I don't doubt you had cream on the oatmeal?' 'Well--milk, sorta.' 'Exactly! Orange and milk! Now really--think that over--orange and milk! Isn't that asking a lot of your stomach, right at the beginning of the day?' Mr Merchant broke in here. 'Galbraith, for heaven's sake! Don't bulldoze him.' 'But this is important. It's health! We've got to look out for that. Right from the start! Here, Calverly--how old are you?' 'I'm--well--most--twenty-one.' 'Most twenty-one! And you have to lie down before nine o'clock! Good God, boy, don't you see----' 'Oh, come, Galbraith!' 'Well, I'll put it this way:--Here's a young man that can work magic. Magic!' He waved the bundle of clippings. 'Nothing like it since Kipling and Stevenson! First thing's to take care of him, isn't it?' Mr Merchant winked at the staring, crushed youth on the sofa. 'Then you like the stories, Galbraith?' 'Like'em! Of course I like 'em. What do you think I'm talking about?... Like 'em! Hmpf! Tell you what I'm going to do. A new thing in American publishing. But they're a new kind of stories. I'm going to reprint 'em, as they stand, in _Galbraith's_. What do you think o' that? A bit original, eh? I'll advertise that they've been printed before. Play it up. Tell how I found 'em. Put over my new author.' He shook his finger again at the author in question. 'Understand, I'm going to pay you just as if you'd submitted the script to me. That's how I work. Cut out all the old editorial nonsense. Red tape. If I like a thing I print it. I edit _Galbraith's_ to suit myself.