Shorely groaned.

"My dear Gibberts," he said, "we have now----"

"Oh yes, I know all about that. You have matter enough on hand to run
the paper for the next fifteen years. If this is a comic story, you
are buying only serious stuff. If this be tragic, humour is what you
need. Of course, the up-and-down truth is that you are short of money,
and can't pay my price. The _Sponge_ is failing--everybody knows
that. Why can't you speak the truth, Shorely, to me, at least? If you
practiced an hour a day, and took lessons--from me, for instance--you
would be able in a month to speak several truthful sentences one after
the other."

The editor laughed bitterly.

"You are complimentary," he said.

"I'm not. Try again, Shorely. Say I'm a boorish ass."

"Well, you are."

"There, you see how easy it is! Practice is everything. Now, about this
story, will you----"

"I will not. As you are not an advertiser, I don't mind admitting to
you that the paper is going down. You see it comes to the same thing.
We haven't the money as you say, so what's the use of talking?"

Gibberts hitched his chair closer to the editor, and placed his hand on