'Yes. It's like this. We bought the Gleaner, Hump Weaver and I. And we got it cheap, too. Two thousand—for plant, good will, the big press, everything.'
'Hmm!'
'Then I wrote those stories. They jumped our circulation way up. More'n we can afford. Queer about that. Because the paper'd been attacking Charlie Waterhouse, they got the advertiser's to boycott us.'
'Oh!'
'Now Charlie's promised me, if I pay him, to call off the boycott. It'll give us all the Simpson Street advertising. And Hump says we'll fail in a week if we don't get it.'
'Henry!' Uncle Arthur's voice rang out with unpleasant clarity. 'You got from me a thousand dollars of your mother's estate. You sank it in this paper. I let you have that thinking it would bring you to your senses.
It has not brought you to your senses. That is evident.... Now I am going to tell you something extremely serious.
I tell you this because I believe that you are not, for one thing, dishonest. I have discovered that when I gave you that sum and took your receipt I was not protected. You are a minor. You cannot, in law, release me from my obligation as your guardian. After you have come of age you could collect it again from me.'
'Oh, Uncle Arthur, I wouldn't do that!'
'I am sure you wouldn't. But you can readily see, now, that it is utterly impossible for me to make any further advances to you. Even if I were willing. And I am distinctly not willing.'