Hilda soon comprehended that in twenty-four hours Mr. Enville, from being an unscrupulous speculator who had used his official position to make illicit profits out of the sale of land to the town for town improvements, had become the very mirror of honesty and high fidelity to the noblest traditions of local government. Without understanding the situation, and before even she had formulated to herself any criticism of the persons concerned, she felt suddenly sick. She dared not look at George Cannon, but once when she raised her head to await the flow of a period that had been arrested at a laudatory superlative, she caught Dayson winking coarsely at him. She hated Dayson for that; George Cannon might wink at Dayson (though she regretted the condescending familiarity), but Dayson had no right to presume to wink at George Cannon. She hoped that Mr. Cannon had silently snubbed him. As the article proceeded there arose a crying from the Square below. A _Signal_ boy, one of the earliest to break the silent habit of the Square, was bawling a fresh edition of Arthur Dayson's contemporary, and across the web of the dictator's verbiage she could hear the words: "South Africa--Details--" Mr. Cannon glanced at his watch impatiently. Hilda could see, under her bent and frowning brow, his white hand moving on the dark expanse of his waistcoat. Immediately afterwards Mr. Cannon, interrupting, said: "That'll be all right. Finish it. I must be off." "Right you are!" said Dayson grandly. "I'll run down with it to the printer's myself--soon as it's copied." Mr. Cannon nodded. "And tell him we've got to be on the railway bookstalls first thing to-morrow morning." "He'll never do it." "He must do it. I don't care if he works all night." "But--" "There hasn't got to be any 'buts,' Dayson. There's been a damned sight too much delay as it is." "All right! All right!" Dayson placated him hastily. Mr. Cannon departed. It seemed to Hilda that she shivered, but whether with pain or pleasure she knew not. Never before had Mr. Cannon sworn in her presence. All day his manner had been peculiar, as though the strain of mysterious anxieties was changing his spirit. And now he was gone, and she had said naught to him about the telegram from Miss Gailey! Arthur Dayson rolled oratorically on in defence of the man whom yesterday he had attacked. And then Sowter, the old clerk, entered. "What is it? Don't interrupt me!" snapped Dayson. "There's the _Signal_.... Latest details.... This here Majuba business!" "What do I care about your Majuba?" Dayson retorted. "I've got something more important than your Majuba." "It was the governor as told me to give it you," said Sowter, restive.