'Of course not. These things are mean. In a small town. Hypocrisy all round. I was thinking it over this morning, and it occurred to me you might like to get off by yourself and do some real writing for the paper. That's what we need, you know. Sketches. Snappy poetry. Little pictures of life-like George Ade's stuff in the _Record_. Or a bit of the 'Gene Field touch. Something they'd have to read. Make the _Gleaner_ known. Put it on every centre table in Sunbury. That's what we really need from you, you know. Your own stuff, not ours. Take this reception to-night at the Jenkins'. Anybody can cover that. I'll go myself.' Henry, pale, lips compressed, shook his head. 'No,' said he, after a pause, 'I'll cover it.' McGibbon considered this, then moved irresolutely back to his desk. Here, for a time, he sat, with knit brows, and stabbed at flies with his pen. It would be walking into the lion's den, that was all. He wished he could think of a way to hold the boy back. There were complications. The _Gleaner_, just, lately, had been going pretty violently after what McGibbon called the 'Old Cinch.' Without quite enough evidence, they were now virtually accusing Waterhouse of embezzlement, and the others of connivance. Mr Weston was among the most respected in Sunbury, rich, solid, a supporter of all good things'. Though Boice and Waterhouse were unknown to local society, the Westons were intimate with the Jenkinses and their crowd. They all regarded the _Gleaner_ as a scurrilous, libellous sheet, and McGibbon himself as an intruder in the village life. And there was another trouble; very recent. He couldn't speak of it with the boy in this state of mind. Not at the moment. He couldn't see his way... And now, with the realest-scandal Sunbury had known in a decade piled freshly on the paper's bad name. But he couldn't think of a way to keep him from going. The boy was, in a way, his partner. There were little delicacies between them. Henry went. The reception given by Mr and Mrs Jenkins to Senator and Madame William M. Watt, was the most important social event of the summer. The Jenkins's home, a square mansion of yellow brick, blazed with light at every window. Japanese lanterns were festooned from tree to tree about the lawn. An awning had been erected all the way from the front steps to the horse block, and a man in livery stood out there assisting the ladies from their carriages. It was felt by some, it was even remarked in undertones, that the Jenkinses were spreading it on pretty thick, even considering that it was the first really public appearance of the Watts in Sunbury.