Hinton's smile broadened; he reached over and grasped Mr. Opp's hand. "Do you know you are a rattling good fellow? I am sorry things have gotten so balled up with you." "I'll pay out," said the editor. "It'll take some time, but I've got a remarkable ability for work in me. I don't mind telling you, though I'll have to ask you not to mention the fact to no one at present, that I am considering inventing a patent. It's a sort of improved type-setter, one of the most remarkable things you ever witnessed. I never knew till about six months ago what a scientific turn my mind could take. I've worked this whole thing out in my brain without the aid of a model of any sort." "In the meanwhile," said Hinton, "I hear you will have to sell your paper." Mr. Opp winced, and the lines in his face deepened. "Well, yes," he said, "I have about decided to sell, provided I keep the editorship, of course. After my patent gets on the market I will soon be in a position to buy it back." "Mr. Opp," said Hinton, "I've got a proposition to make to you. I have a moderate sum of money in bank which I want to invest in business. How would you like to sell out the paper to me, lock, stock, and barrel?" Mr. Opp, whose eyes had been resting on the bills that strewed his table, looked up eagerly. "You to own it, and me to run it?" he asked hopefully. "No," said Hinton; "you would help me to run it, I hope, but I would be the editor. I have thought the matter over seriously, and I believe, with competent help, I can make the paper an up-to-date, self-supporting newspaper, in spite of my handicap." Mr. Opp sat as if stunned by a blow. He had known for some time that he must sell the paper in order to meet his obligations, but the thought of relinquishing his control of it never dawned upon him. It was the pride of his heart, the one tangible achievement in a wilderness of dreams. Life without Guinevere had seemed a desert; life without "The Opp Eagle" seemed chaos. He looked up bewildered. "We'd continue on doing business here in the regular way?" he asked. "No," said Hinton; "I would build a larger office uptown, and put in new presses; we could experiment with your new patent type-setter as soon as you got it ready." But Mr. Opp was beyond pleasantries. "You'd keep Nick?" he asked. "I wouldn't consider anything that would cut Nick out." "By all means," said Hinton. "I'm counting on you and Nick to initiate me into the mysteries of the profession. You could be city editor, and Nick--well, we could make him foreman." One last hope was left to Mr. Opp, and he clung to it desperately, not daring to voice it until the end. "The name," he said faintly, "would of course remain 'The Opp Eagle'?" Hinton dropped his eyes; he could not stand the wistful appeal in the drawn face opposite. "No," he said shortly; "that's a--little too personal. I think I should call my paper 'The Weekly News.'"