Anything that
gives the greatest good to the greatest number, ought to be our field."

"That's what I'm getting at. Now look at this." The managing editor
fumbled in his desk and produced a mass of paper. "You probably know
that the girls in the department stores are trying to stage a strike. It
doesn't amount to much--yet--but the police have pulled some pretty raw
work. Now from the girls' standpoint this stuff ought to get publicity.
But from the standpoint of those who own the newspapers it
shouldn't--and it hasn't had a line except in _The World_, which, of
course, only goes to the working people. Incidentally, _The World_ has
been running some pretty good sob-stuff lately."

"Yes," said Good quietly, "I wrote it."

Bassett looked up quickly. "Oh--are you one of that socialist outfit?"

"No more socialist than you are plutocrat. I'm just a newspaper
man--like yourself."

"Conscienceless, eh?"

"Consciences are expensive."

"Yes," said Bassett pensively, "most of us have to let the little
darlings starve to death. I bet if we slipped into the next life with a
murderer and a thief, St. Peter'd give 'em both a golden harp and ..."

"Oh, cheer up," laughed Good, "let's not worry about preferred positions
in the next edition. We've got plenty to do with this one."

"Well, then," said the small man, "how about playing up this working
girl stuff as a starter on the new idea? That ought to appeal to you."

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand," explained Good patiently. "This
isn't going to be an organ of the working classes."

"That's all right, too, but in your talk out there to the boys you said
you were going to print all the truth all the time. Well, this is true
and people certainly ought to know about it. Those girls are getting a
hell of a rotten deal. What about it?"

Good was silent. "Frankly, I don't know," he murmured.

"I know what you're thinking," said Bassett with a suggestion of a
sneer. "We're carrying full pages for Corey's and the rest. But I
thought you weren't going to take orders from the business office."

"We're not," said Good. "But we have to take our orders from Miss
Wynrod."

"That's right," agreed Bassett. "I hadn't thought of that. Well, why
don't you put it up to her?"

"By Jove," cried Good, "I will! I'll do just that. You get your stuff
together. I'll see her to-night and get her O.K.--if I can."

"Here's a suggestion," said the managing editor; "it may help to get he