"Where's Nort?" asked the old Captain sharply, this time directing his question at Ed Smith.
"I've fired him," said Ed. "Got to cut down expenses."
"You—fired—Nort?"
The old Captain's voice sounded as though it came from the bottom of a well.
"Yes," said Ed crisply, "I hired him—and now I've fired him."
Ed was still much in the mood of Fitz-James. He had always been somewhat contemptuous of the Captain. He not only regarded him as an old fogy, a vain old fogy, but as a dead weight upon the Star. Ed thought his editorials worse than nothing at all, and had resolved to get rid of the Captain at the first opportunity. It was too bad, of course, but—business is business.
When the Captain did not reply, Ed observed at large:
"The trouble with this office is that you all seem to think we are printing a newspaper for our health."
"Sold more extra copies of the Star last week than ever before," said Fergus.
"Yes," responded Ed bitterly, "and left out reading notices that would have brought in more than all your extras put together. That electric light announcement, and the notice of Dick McCullum's candidacy——"