four months after tom dennis had vanished from marshville, the dingy and shut-up office of the clarion was reopened. dennis had returned—and he had not returned alone. the mortgage held by banker dribble was cancelled. a new linotype machine was installed in the clarion's dingy back room. the first issue of the paper announced that it was back again to stay. and it stayed!
also, some very good farms along the river were purchased by a gentleman named nickers. mr. nickers announced that he was a retired sea-captain and was now about to take up the profession of farming mother earth—the dream of every sea-faring man alive.
each afternoon at five minutes of two, mr. nickers would stride down the street and enter the office of the clarion. the wide front office was now divided into two rooms. mr. nickers invariably passed to the second room and entered, closing the door behind him.
one afternoon, however, he came slightly earlier than usual. tom dennis, who was in the second room, shook hands heartily. in the corner by the window that overlooked main street sat a man of huge physique and massive features; this man was able to move only with difficulty and by aid of a stick. miles hathaway would never be the man he had been, but at least he could get about. modern surgeons can do much that appears miraculous to the layman.
hathaway held up his big fist and exchanged a hearty grip with nickers; then he lifted a rugged booming voice in a shout that rattled the plate-glass window.
"jerry! where's that— oh, here you are!"
"yes, sir," meekly responded a moon-faced lad, popping in at the door. he was clad in printer's apron and had a very dirty face, as is the rightful heritage of every printer's devil who is yet passing through the "type lice" jest of hoary memory. but he was manifestly a very happy boy.
"strike four bells!" roared miles hathaway. "and fetch my pipe and tobacco."
dennis beckoned to jerry and whispered something. the boy struck a brass ship's bell of the regulation eight-inch size which hung near the door—struck it one-two, one-two, as a ship's bell should be struck, then vanished hastily. he had barely gone when florence came into the room, with a smile and a kiss for everybody concerned—which seemed to mightily embarrass captain nickers but not to displease him particularly!
florence started to speak, then halted as jerry re-entered the room bearing a tray with glasses and a long green bottle.
"why, tom!" she exclaimed quickly. "you're not drinking?"
"we're all drinking to-day—and you'll have to take a sip at least!" said dennis, laughing. he produced a corkscrew and opened the bottle. "news for you, florence! now, jerry, fill 'em all around—and a specially big one for cap'n nickers!"
wondering, florence watched jerry obey the order. then tom dennis, lifting his glass, met her puzzled eyes with a gay laugh.
"good news, florence! two things have happened this morning. first, the other paper has offered to sell out to us—and i'm going to accept their offer, running it as a weekly from now on. that means no opposition here. and second, i've signed a whopping advertising contract with one of the biggest agencies—it came in the mail this morning. ladies and gentlemen, that means that from this time forward the clarion is not only established firmly here in town, but she begins to haul in the coin!
"i've made mistakes," pursued dennis more soberly. "i made 'em when i was here before, and i've profited by them. beginning with next monday's issue the clarion dies for ever! beginning with next monday its place will be taken by the marshville pelican—and here's to the new ship!"
"hurray!" said cap'n nickers. but florence turned to her husband.
"and tom," she said softly, "you'll have to find a new society editor. i—i'm going to stay at home after this and—and make a real home for you!"
of all those who heard her words tom dennis alone understood—and perhaps miles hathaway understood also.
