Will of the Canaanite Jove wrote the words
in fiery letters upon the ether:

"CEASE TO BE!"

Joe did not go in to shake hands with Judge Pike.

He turned the next corner a moment later, and went down the quiet
street which led to the house which had been his home. He did not
glance at that somewhat grim edifice, but passed it, his eyes averted,
and stopped in front of the long, ramshackle cottage next door. The
windows were boarded; the picket-fence dropped even to the ground in
some sections; the chimneys sagged and curved; the roof of the long
porch sprinkled shingles over the unkempt yard with every wind, and
seemed about to fall. The place was desolate with long emptiness and
decay: it looked like a Haunted House; and nailed to the padlocked gate
was a sign, half obliterated with the winters it had fronted, "For Sale
or Rent."

Joe gat him meditatively back to Main Street and to the Tocsin
building. This time he did not hesitate, but mounted the stairs and
knocked upon the door of the assistant editor.

"Oh," said Eugene. "YOU'VE turned up, you?"

Mr. Bantry of the Tocsin was not at all the Eugene rescued from the
"Straw-Cellar." The present gentleman was more the electric Freshman
than the frightened adventurer whom Joe had encountered in New York.
It was to be seen immediately that the assistant editor had nothing
undaintily business-like about him, nor was there the litter on his
desk which one might have expected. He had the air of a gentleman
dilettante who amused himself slightly by spending an hour or two in
the room now and then. It was the evolution to the perfect of his
Freshman manner, and his lively apparel, though somewhat chastened by
an older taste, might have been foretold from that which had smitten
Canaan seven years before. He sat not at the orderly and handsome
desk, but lay stretched upon a divan of green leather, smoking a cigar
of purest ray and reading sleepily a small verse-looking book in
morocco. His occupation, his general air, the furniture of the room,
and his title (doubtless equipped with a corresponding salary) might
have inspired in an observant cynic the idea that here lay a pet of
Fortune, whose position had been the fruit of nepotism, or, mayhap, a
successful wooing of some daughter, wife, or widow. Eugene looked
competent for that.

"I've come back to stay, 'Gene," said Joe.

Bantry had dropped his book and raised himself on an elbow.
"Exceedingly interesti