I had thought the life in the office of the Star exciting enough before the explosion which resulted in the discharge of Norton Carr, as indeed it was, but it was really not to be compared with that which followed. No sooner had Nort returned than his spirits again began to soar. He felt that he now had Anthy's influence strongly behind him, and that, no matter what happened, Ed Smith could not interfere with him. Ed himself accepted the situation as gracefully as he could, and comforted himself with the reflection that Nort was, after all, receiving no more wages than before.

Nort had at least one clear characteristic that must belong to genius—he dared let himself go. He had supreme confidence in himself. Most men when they spread their wings and sail off into the blue empyrean more than half expect to fall, but Nort never cast his eye downward nor doubted the strength of his wings.

I have only to close my eyes to see him, his whole slim, strong body suddenly stiffening, quivering under the impact of an idea—a "great idea" it always was with him—his eyes suddenly growing dark with excitement, his legs nervously bestirring themselves to carry him up and down the room, while he thrust one hand through his hair and with the other emphasized the torrent of exclamations which poured out of him. At these moments he was one of the most beautiful human beings that ever I have seen. And in the midst of his wild enthusiasms he was as likely as not, at any moment, to see some absurd or humorous angle of the subject he was talking about, and to burst suddenly into laughter, laughter at himself and at us for listening soberly to him. He never let us laugh first!

One of his early suggestions after he came back was the autobiography of the old Captain, of which I have already spoken. He knew it would be a success, as indeed it was, a very great success; but it was only one of a hundred things which Nort suggested during that winter.

"Say, Ed," he said one day, "why can't we get a new turn on our advertisements, make 'em interesting!"

Ed looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?"

Ed considered himself a pastmaster in the art of getting, writing, and composing advertisements, and he rather resented Nort's suggestion.

"Why," said Nort, "look at 'em! They're all just alike, and nobody cares to read 'em: 'Respectfully informs,' 'Most reasonable terms,' 'Solicits continuance!'"

Nort spread open the paper with growing glee. Anthy was already laughing.

"And look here," he snorted, "'guarantees satisfaction,' 'large and elegant assortment,' 'lowest prices.'"

"Well," said Ed, "what would you have? They pay their good money for these ads. It shows that they're satisfied."

"No," said Nort, "it only shows that they don't know any better."

He walked quickly down the room and back again, all our eyes upon him.

"I'll tell you what! Let's publish the picture of every business man who advertises with us right in the middle of his advertisement, and then invite our readers to watch for the 'Hempfield Gallery of Business Success.'"

To this plan Ed had a thousand objections, and the old Captain, much as he liked Nort, frowned upon it, and even Fergus scowled; but Anthy said:

"Let's see what can be done."

So Nort confidently sallied forth, and went first to John G. Graham, groceryman, whose advertisements had been a feature of the Star for twenty years, and who always renewed his agreement with the observation that he s'posed he'd have to, but he never seen the good it was to him. He was a large man, as flaccid as a bag of meal, with a rather serious countenance, hair smoothly reached back, and a big gray moustache. He was one of the selectmen of the town, and secretly not a little vain of his position and of his success.

"Your store is one of the best-smelling places in this town," said Nort. "I always stop when I go by to take a sniff of it. I should think it would make people who come in here want to buy."

He began to sniff, turning his head first this way and then that. To Mr. Graham this was a novel and interesting suggestion, and in a moment's time he also began sniffing in a solemn and dignified way.

"It does smell good," he admitted. "Never thought of it before."

This was the opening that Nort wanted. He began explaining, with an air of repressed enthusiasm which conveyed a wonderful conviction of the importance of what he was saying, the new plans of the Star. He quite took Mr. Graham into his confidence.

"We're now going to get the business men of Hempfield talked about, Mr. Graham," said Nort, bringing down his fist upon the top of a cracker box. "We're going to make people trade here instead of sending away for their groceries!"

This was an important point with Mr. Graham. If there was one thing he hated above any other it was the invasion of Hempfield by the mail-order houses. So he turned his head to one side, frowning a little, and listened to Nort.

"Trouble is," said Nort, "your ad isn't interesting. Same thing you've had for ten years, and people have got so used to seeing it they don't read it any more. Now those fellows out in Chicago are succeeding because they know how to advertise. If you keep up with them, you've got to change your methods. Bring your advertising up to date! I say, let's make the people read what the business people of Hempfield have got to say to them."

Mr. Graham frowned still more deeply, wondering what all this meant and at just what point Nort would ask him to pay something. Mr. Graham was cynically sure that it would all boil down sooner or later to a question of money, and he had not lived an entire lifetime in Hempfield without being equally sure that no one would get a dime out of him without earning every last cent of it.

Nort tore a sheet of wrapping paper from the roll and put it on the counter.

"See here now: This is how I'd do it—just for a suggestion." And he began to write on the paper:

Some of the Good Things one may smell

upon stepping into

JOHN G. GRAHAM'S STORE

Delicious Coffee from Brazil

Molasses from New Orleans

Spices from Araby

"What's Araby?" asked Mr. Graham. "My spices are all from Boston."

"Araby," said Nort, "is where they grow 'em."

"Oh!" said Mr. Graham.

Cookies from Buffalo

Fragrant New Cheese

"What else is it that smells?" asked Nort, lifting up his nose and sniffing discriminatively.

Mr. Graham also lifted up his nose and sniffed, and then, looking at Nort, solemnly remarked:

"Kerosene and codfish."

"Wouldn't make the list too long, would you, Mr. Graham?"

"S'pose not, s'pose not," said Mr. Graham.

When you come into our Store

SNIFF—Then BUY.

Our prices are the lowest

"How's that, now?" exclaimed Nort, stepping back and observing his work with delight. "Try that experiment, Mr. Graham, and then watch the people as they come into the store. Just watch 'em. They will all be sniffing like pointer dogs! You'll know then that they have read your advertisement."

A smile broke gradually over Mr. Graham's countenance. Nort's picture touched his slow imagination, and he could actually see old Mrs. Dexter coming in with her basket, sniffing like a pointer dog. Nort had given him something brand new in a humdrum world—and funny. In the country there is always such a consuming and ungratified need of something to laugh at. Any one who can make the country laugh can have his way with it.

Nort saw that he was winning, and pursued his advantage closely. He explained with perfect assurance his plan of publishing what he called the "Hempfield Gallery of Business Success," a portrait with each advertisement; and, having already opened Mr. Graham's imagination just a crack, was able now to enter with his larger plans. Having got a tentative promise to try this extraordinary innovation, and innovations were like earthquakes in Hempfield, Nort rushed over to see Mr. Tole, the druggist, and using Mr. Graham as an opening wedge, got Mr. Tole to the point of saying, "I'll see." Then he went into Henderson's drygoods store and, using the promises of both Mr. Graham and Mr. Tole, worked Mr. Henderson into what might be called a state of reluctant preparedness. Every time he got a new man he went back to all the others with the news, until they began to think themselves a part of the conspiracy—and Mr. Graham afterward considered himself the real originator of this daring scheme for the uplift of Hempfield.

From the way Nort worked at this scheme, coming back after each assault to tell us with glee of his experiences, one would have thought he was having the time of his life, as, indeed, he was. It was still a great joke to him; and yet I saw his eyes often turn toward Anthy, eagerly seeking her approval. And Anthy would sit very quiet in her chair, looking at Nort with level eyes, smiling just a little, and once or twice after he had turned away, I saw that she still kept her eyes upon him with a curious, questioning, wistful look. Fergus saw it, too, always watching silently from the cases.

Well, we launched the "Hempfield Gallery" with tremendous effect. Nort had not only increased the number of advertisements but had actually succeeded in getting all the advertisers to pay for making the cuts of themselves. It was really very effective; and Ed, now that the plan was launched, was able to sell many extra copies of the paper. As for Nort, that irrepressible young rapscallion was in the highest of spirits. And every day when he came down the street he would look in at Mr. Graham's store:

"Sniffin', are they, Mr. Graham?"

"They certainly are sniffin'," that ponderous grocery man would respond.

Both would then sniff solemnly in unison, and Nort would go on down the street laughing. A new joke in Hempfield! I do not wonder that he got them.