"You've got the wrong number. Lawr_i_nce hasn't found the price yet; he's only getting estimates; but you'd better coax him to make the change--bring the drammer closer to the hearts of the people. None of these cheap fil-lums where a comic dog runs in and upsets the tea-table, just as the parson is about to say grace, but the world's greatest artists brought within the reach of all who command the homely nickel. Do you follow me, O protector of the poor?" "I see your family pride is stung, Phil. Let it go at that. There's a cut of Hastings as Romeo that I'm utilizing as a paper-weight, and I'll run that just to show there's no hard feeling. By the by, Phil, how's your pa getting on with the traction company?" "Nothing doing! I'm not as foolish as I am young. And besides I don't know." The editor took a turn across the room and rumpled his hair. He pointed to a clipping on his desk from the Indianapolis "Advertiser" of that morning. The headlines proclaimed:-- SCANDAL IN SYCAMORE TRACTION RUMORS THAT RECEIVERSHIP IS IMMINENT FOREIGN BONDHOLDERS THREATENING HOLTON ESTATE TO BE INVESTIGATED Phil's face grew serious. Her father had not been home for several days and she knew that his business in Indianapolis had absorbed his time and attention increasingly. "I'm sure I don't know anything about it," she answered, "and of course if you thought I did you wouldn't ask me." "Of course not, Phil. But it's a mess. And I don't know whether to print something about it or let it go. Bill Holton's out of town and I don't like to shoot without giving him a chance. But I owe him a few. If the company goes bust, there's going to be a row round here we won't forget in a hurry. Every widow and orphan in the county has got some of that stuff. They worked that racket as hard as they could--home road for the home people. What's the answer?" Phil drew up the editor's clip of paper and wrote:-- "Mr. Amzi Montgomery went to Indianapolis yesterday to attend the Nordica concert." Barker stared at this item blankly. "What's that got to do with it?" "Nothing," said Phil indifferently; "it's only an item." "Amzi's always going to concerts," remarked the editor inconsequently. "I thought maybe he wasn't going to this one, for the excellent reason that he declined to take me along." Barker ran his hand through his hair, looked at Phil with dawning intelligence, and his brow cleared. "I haven't said anything," remarked Phil discreetly, "because I don't know anything." Barker put on his coat and hat.