Mr. Meeson's Will

No. 3 was one of the editors; a mild-eyed little man with blue spectacles. He had once been a writer of promise; but somehow Meeson's had got him for its own, and turned him into a publisher's hack. "Quite so, Sir," he said humbly. "It is very bad-it is dreadful to think of Meeson's coming down to seven per cent-seven per cent!" and he held up his hands. "Don't stand there like a stuck pig, No. 3," said Mr. Meeson, fiercely; "but suggest something." "Well, Sir," said No. 3 more humbly than ever, for he was terribly afraid of his employer; "I think, perhaps, that somebody had better go to Australia, and see what can be done.