and was growing every week. Advertisements came trooping in. _Cosy
Moments_, in short, was passing through an era of prosperity
undreamed of in its history.

"Young blood," said Psmith nonchalantly, "young blood. That is the
secret. A paper must keep up to date, or it falls behind its
competitors in the race. Comrade Wilberfloss's methods were
possibly sound, but too limited and archaic. They lacked ginger. We
of the younger generation have our fingers more firmly on the
public pulse. We read off the public's unspoken wishes as if by
intuition. We know the game from A to Z."

At this moment Master Maloney entered, bearing in his hand a card.

"'Francis Parker'?" said Billy, taking it. "Don't know him."

"Nor I," said Psmith. "We make new friends daily."

"He's a guy with a tall-shaped hat," volunteered Master Maloney,
"an' he's wearin' a dude suit an' shiny shoes."

"Comrade Parker," said Psmith approvingly, "has evidently not been
blind to the importance of a visit to _Cosy Moments_. He has dressed
himself in his best. He has felt, rightly, that this is no occasion
for the old straw hat and the baggy flannels. I would not have it
otherwise. It is the right spirit. Shall we give him audience,
Comrade Windsor?"

"I wonder what he wants."