“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Raphael, in deep scarlet distress.

“You must have been paying a guinea out of your own pocket!” said little Sampson sharply.

Raphael’s confusion increased.  “I—­I—­didn’t want it myself,” he faltered.  “You see, it was paid me just for form, and you really did the work.  Which reminds me I have a cheque of yours now,” he ended boldly.  “That’ll make it right for the coming month, anyhow.”

He hunted out Goldsmith’s final cheque, and tendered it sheepishly.

“Oh no, I can’t take it now,” said little Sampson.  He folded his arms, and drew his cloak around him like a toga.  No August sun ever divested little Sampson of his cloak.

“Has Goldsmith agreed to your terms, then?” inquired Raphael timidly.

“Oh no, not he.  But—­”

“Then I must go on paying the difference,” said Raphael decisively.  “I am responsible to you that you get the salary you’re used to; it’s my fault that things are changed, and I must pay the penalty,” He crammed the cheque forcibly into the pocket of the toga.

“Well, if you put it in that way,” said little Sampson, “I won’t say I couldn’t do with it.  But only as a loan, mind.”

“All right,” murmured Raphael.

“And you’ll take it back when my comic opera goes on tour.  You won’t back out?”

“No.”

“Give us your hand on it,” said little Sampson huskily.  Raphael gave him his hand, and little Sampson swung it up and down like a baton.

“Hang it all! and that man calls himself a Jew!” he thought.  Aloud he said:  “When my comic opera goes on tour.”

They returned to the editorial den, where they found Pinchas raging, a telegram in his hand.

“Ah, the Man-of-the-Earth!” he cried.  “All my beautiful peroration he spoils.”  He crumpled up the telegram and threw it pettishly at little Sampson, then greeted Raphael with effusive joy and hilarity.  Little Sampson read the telegram.  It ran as follows: 

“Last sentence of Gideon leader.  ’It is too early yet in this moment of grief to speculate as to his successor in the constituency.  But, difficult as it will be to replace him, we may find some solace in the thought that it will not be impossible.  The spirit of the illustrious dead would itself rejoice to acknowledge the special qualifications of one whose name will at once rise to every lip as that of a brother Jew whose sincere piety and genuine public spirit mark him out as the one worthy substitute in the representation of a district embracing so many of our poor Jewish brethren.  Is it too much to hope that he will be induced to stand?’ Goldsmith.”

“That’s a cut above Henry,” murmured little Sampson, who knew nearly everything, save the facts he had to supply to the public.  “He wired to the wife, and it’s hers.  Well, it saves him from writing his own puffs, anyhow.  I suppose Goldsmith’s only the signature, not intended to be the last word on the subject.  Wants touching up, though; can’t have ‘spirit’ twice within four lines.  How lucky for him Leon is just off the box seat!  That queer beggar would never have submitted to any dictation any more than the boss would have dared show his hand so openly.”