Hathaway held up his big fist and exchanged a hearty grip with Nickers; then he lifted a rugged booming voice in a shout that rattled the plate-glass window.
"Jerry! Where's that— Oh, here you are!"
"Yes, sir," meekly responded a moon-faced lad, popping in at the door. He was clad in printer's apron and had a very dirty face, as is the rightful heritage of every printer's devil who is yet passing through the "type lice" jest of hoary memory. But he was manifestly a very happy boy.
"Strike four bells!" roared Miles Hathaway. "And fetch my pipe and tobacco."
Dennis beckoned to Jerry and whispered something. The boy struck a brass ship's bell of the regulation eight-inch size which hung near the door—struck it one-two, one-two, as a ship's bell should be struck, then vanished hastily. He had barely gone when Florence came into the room, with a smile and a kiss for everybody concerned—which seemed to mightily embarrass Captain Nickers but not to displease him particularly!
Florence started to speak, then halted as Jerry re-entered the room bearing a tray with glasses and a long green bottle.
"Why, Tom!" she exclaimed quickly. "You're not drinking?"
"We're all drinking to-day—and you'll have to take a sip at least!" said Dennis, laughing. He produced a corkscrew and opened the bottle. "News for you, Florence! Now, Jerry, fill 'em all around—and a specially big one for Cap'n Nickers!"
Wondering, Florence watched Jerry obey the order. Then Tom Dennis, lifting his glass, met her puzzled eyes with a gay laugh.
"Good news, Florence! Two things have happened this morning. First, the other paper has offered to sell out to us—and I'm going to accept their offer, running it as a weekly from now on. That means no opposition here. And second, I've signed a whopping advertising contract with one of the biggest agencies—it came in the mail this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, that means that from this time forward The Clarion is not only established firmly here in town, but she begins to haul in the coin!