y back at him. A man of less will would have yielded and become
resignedly subject to the body which Nature had imposed upon him. But
Mr. Burdick was a man of rare spirit.

"You don't believe in it, do you?" he continued, in a voice which had
become shrill. "You're opposed to it?"

"On the contrary--"

"Then why...." Obviously Mr. Burdick was exasperated.

"My dear Mr. Burdick," said Roger patiently, "I've already told you.
Your cause is a good one--sure. But so's the Y. M. C. A. So are foreign
missions. So's the Republican Party--now and then. But causes aren't
news. You talk about the abolition of slavery. Sure--that was
news ... _after_ the abolition. Go ahead and abolish poverty--I
don't care how little--and we'll give you the run of the paper. But
you've got to _break out_. You've got to make news. If you can't
make it by abolishing poverty, hire a hall and get pinched ... we'll
give you two columns too."

"If you are endeavouring to be flippant ..." began Mr. Burdick, rising,
and drawing himself up to his full height--which was not very
impressive, as none knew better than himself.

"No," said Roger very earnestly. "I'm not. I never was more serious in
my life. Only you won't understand. People with axes to grind never do.
They always get sore when we won't help the job. You see...."

"I shall wish you a very good afternoon," said Mr. Burdick stiffly.

Roger shrugged his shoulders. "As you please. I hope the wish comes
true."

The little man ignored the persiflage. He clapped his hat down on his
head savagely, and beat what was intended for a very dignified retreat,
but which, for reasons over which the poor man had no control, fell
short of the intention in several essential particulars.

"And say," called Roger, as his visitor reached the doorway, "don't get
sore. Drop in occasionally and have a chat."

The slamming door was the only response. Roger laughed and turned to
Good who had sat like a graven image all through the interview.

"Well--how did it go?"

For reply Good rose and stretched himself and yawned prodigiously--all
of which procedure was an elaborate simulation of emotions which he did
not in the least feel. He then walked over to the desk and carefully
emptied his pipe. And finally, with sustained deliberateness, he held
out his great hand.

"Put it there, my boy," he said gravely. But Roger had hardly complied,
eyeing him curiously the while, when Good's hand dropped and he walked