'No. Through with you. You owe me a little for this week, but I don't want it. Wouldn't take it as a gift.' His voice was rising. He could feel Humphrey's eyes over the top of his desk. And a stir by the press-room door told him that Jim Smith was listening there, with two or three compositors crowding pip behind him. 'Not as a gift. It's dirty money. I'm through with you. You and your crooked crowd!' 'Oh, you are?' 'Yes. Through with you. I'm on a decent paper now. A paper that ain't afraid to print the truth.' Mr Boice, still motionless, indulged his only nervous affection, making little sounds.' 'Mmm!' he remarked. 'Hmm! Ump! Mmm!' Then he said, 'Meaning the _Gleaner_, I presume.' 'Meaning the _Gleaner_.' 'I suppose you know that McGibbon's slated to fail within the month. He can't so much as meet his pay-roll.' 'I know more'n that!' cried Henry, laughing nervously. 'I know he's got money because I put some in to-day. Miss Dittenhoefer's quitting you this week, too. She's enthusiastic about us. I've just seen her. We're going to have a big property there. We'll buy you out one o' these days for a song. Then it'll be the _Gleaner and Voice_. See? But, first, we're going to clean up the town. You and Charlie Waterhouse and that-old whited sepulchre in the bank! I'll show you you can't fool with me!' It was very youthful. Henry wished, in a swift review, that he had thought up something better and rehearsed it. Then he saw the eyes of the huge, still man waver down to his desk. And his heart bounded. 'He's afraid of me!' ran his thoughts. 'I've licked him!' It was the time to leave. Parcel under arm, he strode out. Out on the sidewalk, he laughed aloud. Which wouldn't do. He was a business man now. With investments. He mustn't go grinning down Simpson Street. But it was worth a thousand dollars. Just to feel this way once. Jim Smith? out of breath, came sidling up to the corner. He had run around through the alley. He wrung Henry's hand. 'Great!' he cried. 'Soaked it to the old boy, you did! Makes me think of a story. Maybe you've heard this one. If you have, just----' A hand fell on Henry's shoulder. It was Humphrey, hatless. He must have walked out right past Mr Boice. His face wrinkled into a grin. 'My boy,' he said, 'right here and now I thank you for the joy you've brought into my young life. The impossible has happened. The beautifully impossible. It was great.' 'Well,' cried Henry, beaming, unstrung, a touch of nervous aggression in his voice, 'I said it!' 'Oh, you said it' cried Humphrey. Thus Henry closed a door behind him. And treading the air, trying desperately to control the upward-twitching corners of his mouth, humming the wedding-march from _Lohengrin_ to the familiar words:-- Here comes the bride-- Get on to her stride! --he marched, a conqueror, down Simpson Street. Yes, it was worth a thousand.