“I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere else.” Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and which the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took little thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the gladness it was to be with her again. “'Somewhere else?' Where?” “Anywhere.” “Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?” “The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think.” “But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not deteriorated very much?” “No,” he said; “it's better than it ever was before.” “What!” she cried, with a little gasp. “You're so astounded at my modesty?” “But please tell me what you mean,” she said quickly. “What happened to it?” “Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your summer in the north.” “No,” she answered earnestly. “Don't you remember my telling you that I am interested in newspaper work?” “I have even heard so from others,” he said, with an instant of dryness. “Please tell me about the 'Herald'?” “It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy and a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer suffering from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, he is an enterprising idiot with a mania for work-baskets.” Her face was in the shadow. “You say the--idiot--is enterprising?” she inquired. “Far more enterprising and far less idiot than I. They are looking for oil down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a kindergarten babe, and spoke of 'boring for kerosene' in his first letter to me; but he knows it all now, and writes long and convincing geological arguments. If a well comes in, he is prepared to get out an extra! Perhaps you may understand what that means in Plattville, with the 'Herald's' numerous forces. I owe him everything, even the shares in the oil company, which he has persuaded me to take. And he is going to dare to make the 'Herald' a daily. Do you remember asking me why I had never done that? It seemed rather a venture to try to compete with the Rouen papers in offering State and foreign news, but this young Gulliver has tacked onto the Associated Press, and means to print a quarto--that's eight pages, you know--once a week, Saturday, and a double sheet, four pages, on other mornings. The daily venture begins next Monday.” “Will it succeed?” “Oh, no!” he laughed. “You think not?” Her interest in this dull business struck him as astonishing, and yet in character with her as he had known her in Plattville. Then he wondered unhappily if she thought that talking of the “Herald” and learning things about the working of a country newspaper would help her to understand Brainard Macauley.