“Then the best thing that you can do is to get used to it,” retorted the publisher, who was now beginning to get angry on his own account. “You’ve been treated as if you were superior beings, but you are no better than other people. I have been suppressing the truth about you millionaires for years, and losing thousands of dollars by doing so. I might have sold thousands of copies of the _Star_, in Papyrus and throughout the county, had I not truckled to you Baldwins, like a dog, instead of being a man. Hereafter the truth is to be published about you, just the same as about other folks, and Wycliff is under contract to do it for a year. He is recommended as being entirely competent to deal with such cases as yours. Perhaps I shall go out and tell you how to run your mills. There’s the door, Zack Baldwin,” and the proprietor of the _Star_, now thoroughly angry, motioned the millionaire out. But the lord of Papyrus, although more surprised than he had been before in years, was not to be thus easily thwarted. “What will you take for your newspaper--for the entire plant?” he asked, in a more conciliatory tone. “Twenty-five thousand dollars,” replied the publisher, immediately, naming a price so far beyond its true value that he felt sure it would be declined. “A pretty steep price, isn’t it?” asked Baldwin. “Who asked you to buy?” retorted Terry. “Come over to Lawyer Stimson’s and draw the writings,” said the paper-manufacturer, withdrawing. Next day John Wycliff received this note:-- “MY DEAR WYCLIFF: “You’re a jewel. I’ve sold the _Star_ to Zack Baldwin for $25,000. (It’s actual value is around $15,000.) I didn’t even sign the usual agreement, not to engage in the same business again in the same city. “Enclosed you will find check for $1,500, according to agreement by which I guaranteed you one year’s salary. “When I first met you, I thought you were a discourteous crank, but my finances and my self-respect were both badly in need of the rebuke which you gave me. Your way of dealing with such cattle as the Baldwins beats mine out of sight.” “Yours always, WILFRID TERRY.” CHAPTER VI. “Where are you going, pop?” asked Robert, as Mr. Wycliff drove into the yard, with a horse and carriage, one fine morning. “Going to take you and ma for a little ride into God’s country,” replied the father. “But I thought everywhere was God’s country,” replied the little fellow in surprise. “Surely,” replied the father. “All this beautiful world is the Lord’s, but He seems to have given the greater part of the land about here to the Baldwins, or perhaps it would be more nearly correct to say that He has allowed them to grab it. I expect to take you to-day to see a place, which seems to me to be more especially God’s country, because He has not allowed one man, or one family, to get possession of all of it.”