"I don't drink," answered Jed, rather embarrassed.
"Take a glass of sarsaparilla. It won't harm an infant."
"Thank you. I don't mind."
Upon this Mr. Barry stepped up to the bar and ordered one sarsaparilla and one whisky straight. While Jed was solemnly drinking the first, the editor poured down the whisky at one gulp.
Then he felt in his pockets for the fifteen cents which were due. But somehow no silver was forthcoming.
"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I must have left my money at home. Mr. Gilman, can you oblige me with a quarter?"
Jed produced the required coin. Taking it, Barry paid the score, and quietly pocketed the change.
"Now for the letter!" he said. "Where is your writing-room?"
"Haven't got any," answered the barkeeper.
"Can't you scare up a sheet of paper and an envelope?"