But somehow, a thick streak of rustic simplicity remained in Henry's character despite all the eye-opening and mental widening which had resulted from his City life. If Edgar had not sent that paragraph Henry never would, and if we could but peer into the inmost corner of Edgar's heart we might find that the impulse behind the writing of the absurd little puff about "a rising young journalist" was to stand well with the man who had come to greatness--as greatness was esteemed in the journalistic world of Laysford. The news was conveyed in characteristic style to a quarter where it was eagerly hoped for. "It's happened just as I expected," Edgar announced, when he returned home that evening. "Old Mac has got the shoot direct; no humming and hawing, but 'Out you go!'" "I suppose you mean he has been discharged?" said Mr. Winton quietly. "Yes, dad, that's the long and short of it; and Henry is to be our new boss. You remember I told him we all expected it." "So far as I recollect," his father observed sententiously, "that was how you put it." "I am so glad to hear it," said Mrs. Winton. "Henry has got on," with an emphasis on "Henry has" and a motherly look towards Edgar, who gave no sign that the implied comparison was present in his mind. The one whose interest was most personal had given least sign, but Flo's heart was fluttering in a way that was known only to herself. Following on the heels of her first thrill of satisfaction stepped something resembling irritation. She would have preferred that Edgar had been less eager with the news, and had left it for Henry to convey in person. What a splendid opportunity that would have been for unaffected congratulation! Out of her momentary irascible mood she threw a taunt at Edgar. "And you, I suppose, have been appointed Henry's assistant--that would be the least they could do for such a brilliant young man." Edgar flushed and winced. This flicked him on the raw; but his well-exercised powers of denunciation were equal to the occasion. "No such luck for me; that Scotch ass Tait has got Henry's crib. He is one of those sly, slaving plodders, without a touch of ability." "I have noticed, Edgar," put in his father, "that it is the plodders who steadily push ahead." "Oh, that's all right; but I don't like Tait." Perhaps this explained a good deal. A sudden sense of the value of Edgar's services in her love affair with Henry filled Flo with regret for having been spiteful to her dear brother, and she at once endeavoured to save him from further unfavourable criticism by expressing the belief that Henry would doubtless help to advance him all he could. When the first opportunity offered, Flo drew Edgar again to her favourite topic, and had quite smoothed away any ruffles in her brother's temper before she reached this diplomatic point: