he
second-hand book-shop, in disgust he had almost concluded that after all
there was as much glory in his father's business as in that of Mr.
Griggs. Trevor Smith, however, had appeared on the scene at an opportune
moment, and sent his thoughts off at a tangent.

Clearly, journalism was the high road to literature. It enabled one to
get into print, and that, at least, was a great matter.

Already the agreeable Trevor could pose as Henry's literary godfather.
He had allowed him to write one or two simple notes about the visit of a
circus to the town and the annual flower-show, and these had actually
appeared in type in the _Guardian_.

The fact that Trevor had twice borrowed half-a-crown from his
fellow-lodger, and had twenty times forgotten to repay, while he had
also assimilated innumerable examples of Mrs. Charles's baking, had
probably something to do with his readiness in opening his columns to
the youth. But that did not in the least detract from the bursting joy
with which Henry read his own little paragraphs a score of times; nor
did Edward John suspect that the first appearance of his young hopeful
in the splendour of print was due to such adventitious aid.

Henry's masterpiece was a letter to the editor of the _Guardian_
protesting against the charge of sixpence exacted for admission to view
the grave of Shakespeare. This was signed "Thespian," at the suggestion
of Trevor, who never by any chance wrote of actors or of the theatre,
but always of "sons of Thespis," or of "the temple of Thespis." Quite a
lively correspondence ensued in the columns of the paper, and it was a
great delight to Henry that he and Trevor Smith alone knew who the
correspondents were. Between them they did it all. Oh, Henry was
learning what journalism meant!

"Take my word for it, Henry, journalism's your game," his merry mentor
assured him. "That last par of yours about the Christ Church
muffin-struggle is nearly as good as I could have done myself. You're
cut out for a journalist as sure as eggs is eggs. All that you want is
an opportunity to show what's in you."

Yes, only the opportunity was awanting. And how to get it?

"Look at me," Mr. Trevor Smith continued, "I was only a common clerk in
the _Guardian_ office--a common clerk, mind you--but I had the sense to
learn shorthand, and got the first opening as a reporter--and here I
am!"

He helped himself to a luscious pear from the stock which Henry had just
received from h