"Your salary," he continued as we stood at the open door, "shall, of course, be commensurate to your high authority in this new field. Allow me, now, to thank you most deeply and sincerely for your unwitting aid in my youth. I assure you, Mr. Booth, I have often thought of that day we talked. And I hope to repay you, in some measure, for what you did." He said more, mostly polite phrases of good-by. And then I was outside after being handed a folder by some man. An official jetmobile took me to my residence--which turned out to be in the East Wing. Here I am, and I don't understand. I came prepared to suffer heaven only knows what as part of Kilmer Jones's childish pattern for revenge. Instead, here I am, head of the Official Bulletin, titular ruler and ruler-in-fact of the future journalism of the world! There is something behind this--I keep feeling there is. But what? What? Or is he truly generous, to a degree never before known among absolute monarchs? * * * * * February 13, 1 Kyleton Palace, North America I am a suspicious and most humble old man. I see now that Kyle's generosity amazed me only because I myself would have been incapable of such an action. Just now, I fear for His Majesty. I was right, before, when I said there was no subtlety in the man. He is too open, too fair, too forgiving. A ruler with such greatness of heart might easily allow some small insignificant person in too far, too close. I fear for him! * * * * * February 14, 1 Kyleton Palace, North America Tomorrow we begin publication! The pressroom is magnificent! I can hardly wait. It's been a long time since I've felt such exuberance. This afternoon I am to conduct a conference of some eight hundred editors! His Majesty's secretary has sent me an outline on Journalistic Standards, which I shall study after lunch. There was a note attached, in His Majesty's handwriting--such beautiful penmanship, too. "A mere formality," it said, "for, of course, you and I know full well what the future of journalism shall be, Mr. Booth." * * * * * Later-- How wrong can one man be in one lifetime? I wonder now _why_ he changed the calendar. I wonder now what poor devil he destroyed then. But _I'll_ cheat him! I'll cheat him yet! * * * * * Obituary, _Trran Bacon-Sntinl_, Fbruary 16, 1 Th unfortunat and untimly dmis of Gorg W. Booth is hrby notd with sorrow by thos who knw and lovd him.