"Yah!" cried Tim, vindictively, "I'll tell Mr. Cairns what I came to tell you, and leave you to wish you knew it."
Therewith he drew the editor into his room, and closed the doors carefully.
"They're going to strike, sir, on both papers, for higher wages," he said in a low voice.
"Who do you mean, Imp?" asked Cairns, addressing the boy by the name he had especially devised for him.
"The compositors. To-night they're going out to stop both papers."
"Tim O'Neill, you are a perfect mine of information. Providence was determined to bless 'The Mercury' when it sent us Tim O'Neill. Just run away now and ask Mr. Quirk if I can see him."
Denis Quirk was at once a diplomatic and a determined man. On hearing the newest development, he hurried away to interview the prospective strikers.
"Lay your grievances before me," he said. "If I can put them right with justice to the proprietors of this paper, it shall be done."
It was the usual story—higher wages and shorter hours, a larger staff, better paid, with less work to do individually. Denis Quirk offered a compromise, but this was refused. After half an hour's discussion, he suddenly broke out into a white heat of anger.