"All those that want to quit the 'Clarion,' stand up," shouted McGuire Ellis.
Not a man moved.
"Unanimous," observed the convalescent. "I thought nobody'd rise to that. If anybody had," he added, "I'd have punched him in the eye."
The gathering adjourned in gloom.
"All this only makes it harder, Mac," said Hal to his right-hand man afterward. "They can't afford to stick till we sink."
"If a sailor can do it, I guess a newspaper man can," retorted the other resentfully. "I wish I could poison Pierce."
At dinner that night Hal found his father distrait. Since the younger man's return, the old relations had been resumed, though there were still, of necessity, difficult restraints and reservations in their talk. The "Clarion," however, had ceased to be one of the tabooed subjects. Since the publication of the President's letter and the saving of Old Home Week, Dr. Surtaine had become an avowed Clarionite. Also he kept in personal touch with the office. This evening, however, it was with an obvious effort that he asked how affairs were going. Hal answered listlessly that matters were going well enough.
"No, they aren't, Boy-ee. I heard about your talk to-day."
"Did you? I'm sorry. I don't want to worry you."
"Boy-ee, let me back you."