"Printed them! Are—you—craz-y?"

"Don't worry. Sayre got no signature out of me."

"But why did you print?"

"Because those verses were too devilish good to lose. You must have read them. It was that poem Amourette."

"Did he do that?"

"Yes; and the entire sentimental press of the country is now copying it without credit."

"My nephew wrote Amourette?" repeated Mr. Melnor with mingled emotions.

"He sure did. That poem seemed to deal a direct blow at this suffragette strike. Several women subscribers sent in mash notes. I had a mind to take advantage of one or two myself."

Pride and duty contended in the breast of Augustus Melnor; duty won.

"That's what I told you!" he snapped; "those pups will begin to write for the magazines if you don't look out!"