the unions, of course," said George. "Who else? The unions would
find the machinery and subsidise the papers on to their feet, for you
couldn't very well get every man to take a daily. And the unions would
elect trustees to hold them and manage them and an editor to edit each
one and would be able to dismiss editors or trustees either if it wasn't
being run straight. There'd be no profits because every penny made would
go to make the papers better, there being no advertising income or very
little. And every day, all over the continent, there would be printing
hundreds of thousands of copies, each one advancing and defending the
Labour movement."

"It's a grand idea," said Geisner again, "but who'd man the papers,
George. Could Labour papers afford to pay managers and editors what the
big dailies do?"

"I don't know much about managers, but an editor who wouldn't give up a
lot to push the Cause can't think much of it. Why, we're nothing but
literary prostitutes," said George, energetically. "We just write now
what we're told, selling our brains as women on the streets do their
bodies, and some of us don't like it, some of the best too, as you know
well, Geisner. My idea would be to pay a living salary, the same all
round, to every man on the literary staff. That would be fair enough as
an all round wage if it was low pay for editing and leader writing and
fancy work. Many a good man would jump at it, to be free to write as he
felt, and as for the rest of the staff by paying such a wage we'd get the
tip-top pick of the ordinary men who do the pick-up work that generally
isn't considered important but in my opinion is one of the main points of
a newspaper."

"Would you take what you call a 'living salary' on such a paper?" asked
Connie.

"I'd take half if Josie--" He looked at her with tender confidence. The
love-light was in her answering eyes. She nodded, proud of him.

"And they'd all publish my poetry?" asked Arty.

"Would they? They'd jump at it."

"Then when they come along, I'll write for a year for nothing."

"How about me?" asked Ford, "Where do I come in?"

"And me?" asked Connie.

"You can all come in," laughed George. "Geisner shall do the political
and get his editor ten years for sedition. Stratton will supply the mild
fatherly sociological leaders. Mrs. Stratton shall prove that there can't
be any true Art so long as we don't put the police on to everything that
is ugly and repulsive. Nellie, he