A man is always going up or coming down in a newspaper office,--a fact that proves how like the world at large a journalistic sanctum is. In Mr. Robinson’s eyes, Fenton and Stoughton were on the up-grade. Regarding Fenton he had long been in doubt. He had grown to look upon him as a man of ability who had lost all ambition, and whose questionable habits and iconoclastic tendencies of thought had unfitted him for any higher place than he already held. Fenton’s long service in the city department and his thorough knowledge of men and affairs in the metropolis had rendered him a valuable assistant, in spite of his peccadilloes and theories; but that he would ever become fitted for a higher line of journalistic achievement Mr. Robinson had never imagined. For some months, however, the managing editor’s keen eye had observed a great change in Fenton’s demeanor and appearance. Much to Mr. Robinson’s astonishment, he saw that his subordinate was inclined to refrain from alcoholic stimulants, that he had grown very particular about his attire and that he seemed fond of the society of young Stoughton. Mr. Robinson was what the world calls a self-made man. He had “come up from the case,” as the expression goes, having been a journeyman printer in the days of his youth. It is a curious fact that a man who has made a success of his life in spite of heavy obstacles can never destroy a certain undefined admiration for a man who, being born to wealth, position, and leisure has carelessly thrown away his advantages and fallen from his high estate. The fact that Fenton had abandoned as useless toys the very things for which Robinson had been striving all his life gave the city editor,--as Fenton was at this time,--a unique place in the eyes of his chief. In his heart of hearts, he considered Fenton a being superior to himself; and it was this feeling that often added a brusqueness to his manner when dealing with his subordinate that had not tended to make their relations very cordial. But, then, cordiality between the heads of the various departments of a metropolitan daily is a gem as rare as it is precious. Down in the pressroom a great object-lesson is presented to the eyes of a thoughtful man. Here is a vast amount of machinery, the most insignificant part of which is obliged to work in perfect union with all other parts, small or great. By the constant application of oil, friction is prevented and the gigantic presses perform their task in a way that shows what tremendous results can be obtained by a complicated machine when absolute sympathy between all the varying features is maintained.