'You'd just about get out with your underwear and shoes, Hen. They might
leave you a necktie. What do you want it for--throw it in after the
thousand?'
'Well, McGibbon's broke----'
'Yes, I know. They're saying on the street that Boice has got the
_Gleaner_ already. Two compositors and your foreman were in our place
half an hour ago asking for work. Boice went right down there. I saw him
start climbing the stairs.'
'That's his second trip this morning, then, Hump. He offered Bob five
hundred.'
'But it ought to be worth a few thousand.'
'Sure. And except for there not being any money it's going great. You'd
be surprised! You know it's often that way. Bob says many a promising
business has gone under just because they didn't have the money to tide
it over a tight place. But he's getting the circulation. You've no idea!
And when you get that you're bound to get the advertisers. Sooner or
later. Bob says they just have to fall in line.'
Humphrey appeared to be only half listening to this eager little torrent
of words. He deliberately filled his pipe; then moved over to a window
and gazed soberly out at the back yard of the parsonage.
Henry, moody again, was staring at the advertisement, fairly hypnotising
himself with it.
'Great to think of the Old Man having to climb those stairs twice,'
Humphrey remarked, without turning. Then: 'Even with all the trouble
you're going through, Hen, you're lucky not to be working for Boice. He
does wear on one.'
He smoked the pipe out. Then, brow's knit, his long swarthy face
wrinkled deeply with thought, he walked slowly over to the door of his
own bedroom and leaned there, studying the interior.
'There's three thousand dollars' worth of books in here,' he remarked.
'Or close to it. Even at second hand they'd fetch something. You see,
it's really a well built, pretty complete little scientific library. Now
come downstairs.'