He went around to the back of the office and ascended to the editorial rooms. As he approached the sanctum, loud voices were heard within. Mr. Slimmer determined to ascertain the cause before entering. He obtained a chair, and placing it by the side door, he mounted and peeped over the door through the transom. There sat Colonel Bangs, holding _The Morning Argus_ in both hands, while the fringe which grew in a semicircle around the edge of his bald head stood straight out, until he seemed to resemble a gigantic gun-swab. Two or three persons stood in front of him in threatening attitudes. Slimmer heard one of them say: [Illustration] "My name is McGlue, sir!--William McGlue! I am a brother of the late Alexander McGlue. I picked up your paper this morning, and perceived in it an outrageous insult to my deceased relative, and I have come around to demand, sir, WHAT YOU MEAN by the following infamous language: [Illustration] "'The death-angel smote Alexander McGlue, And gave him protracted repose; He wore a checked shirt and a Number Nine shoe, And he had a pink wart on his nose. No doubt he is happier dwelling in space Over there on the evergreen shore. His friends are informed that his funeral takes place Precisely at quarter-past four.' "This is simply diabolical! My late brother had no wart on his nose, sir. He had upon his nose neither a pink wart nor a green wart, nor a cream-colored wart, nor a wart of any other color. It is a slander! It is a gratuitous insult to my family, and I distinctly want you to say _what do you mean_ by such conduct?" "Really, sir," said Bangs, "it is a mistake. This is the horrible work of a miscreant in whom I reposed perfect confidence. He shall be punished by my own hand for this outrage. A pink wart! Awful! sir--awful! The miserable scoundrel shall suffer for this--he shall, indeed!" "How could I know," murmured Mr. Slimmer to the foreman, who with him was listening, "that the corpse hadn't a pink wart? I used to know a man named McGlue, and _he_ had one, and I thought _all_ the McGlues had. This comes of irregularities in families." "And who," said another man, addressing the editor, "authorized you to print this hideous stuff about my deceased son? Do you mean to say, Bangs, that it was not with your authority that your low comedian inserted with my advertisement the following scandalous burlesque? Listen to this: [Illustration] "'Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick, And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick; And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand, And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land. "'Oh! no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun; And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make her yowl, for fun. The pussy's tail now stands out straight; the gun is laid aside; The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.'