Good-by, sir." I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arsons this person had been entertaining himself with, for I could not help feeling remotely accessory to them.

But these thoughts were quickly banished, for the regular editor walked in! [I thought to myself, Now if you had gone to Egypt as I recommended you to, I might have had a chance to get my hand in; but you wouldn't do it, and here you are.

I sort of expected you.] The editor was looking sad and perplexed and dejected.
He surveyed the wreck which that old rioter and those two young farmers had made, and then said "This is a sad business--a very sad business.
There is the mucilage-bottle broken, and six panes of glass, and a spittoon, and two candlesticks.

But that is not the worst.

The reputation of the paper is injured--and permanently, I fear.