"Well, get on with it," shouted Mr. Daily impatiently, and pressed a red bell-push.
"Plenty doing?" he asked the compositor who appeared.
"Twice that," said the compositor.
"Then go to it," barked Mr. Daily. Turning to behold Mr. Maily mopping his brow, he cried, "For heaven's sake don't let anybody see you standing still, Maily."
"I was only thinking," said Mr. Maily.
"Whatever for?" asked Mr. Daily.
"Do you suppose—"
"Suppose nothing. Know!"
"How would it be to—to denounce beer?" asked Mr. Maily.
"Gad, but you've still got pluck," said Mr. Daily with something like admiration. "They'd burn us right enough. But there is such a thing as too much pluck, Maily. Think again, if you must think."