only just what was true,"
For there's more at that game might be playing
If the truth were all told about you."

"That may be bad poetry, but it's good journalistic ethics."

But after Dave had gone the editor called his business manager. "I
guess we'll have to raise Elden to thirty dollars a week," said he.
"He's so honest he embarrasses me, and I guess I need that kind of
embarrassment, or I wouldn't be embarrassed."

CHAPTER NINE

While the gradually deepening current of Dave's life flowed through the
channels of coal heaver, freight hustler, shipping clerk, and reporter,
its waters were sweetened by the intimate relationship which developed
between him and the members of the Duncan household. He continued his
studies under Mr. Duncan's directions; two, three, or even four nights
in the week found him at work in the comfortable den, or, during the
warm weather, on the screened porch that overlooked the family garden.
His duties as reporter frequently called for attendance at public
meetings devoted to all conceivable purposes, and he was at first
disposed to feel unkindly toward these interruptions in his regular
studies. He raised the point with Mr. Duncan.

"One thing I have been trying to drill into you," said his tutor, "is
that education is not a thing of books or studies or formulae of any
kind. It is the whole world; particularly the world of thought,
feeling, and expression. It is not a flower in the garden of life; it
is the garden itself, with its flowers, and its perfumes, and its
sunshine and rain. Yes, and its weeds, and droughts, and insects and
worms. There is a phase of education in the public meeting, whether
its purpose be to discuss the municipal tax rate or the flora of the
Rockies. You can't afford to miss any subject; but still less can you
afford to miss the audiences that are interested in any subject. They
are deeper than any book. There are all kinds of audiences. There is
the violent audience, and the mysterious audience, and the sentimental
audience, and the destructive audience, and the whimsical audience, and
the hysterical audience,--and every other kind. And the funny thing is
that they are all made up of much the same people. Take a sentimental
audience, for instance; a few passes, and you have an hysterical
audience. It is a difference of moods. We don't think enough about
moods. We are all subject to moods, and yet we judge a new
acquaintance by t