Hal quietly.
"Perhaps I'll become a professional in time."

"Buying a newspaper doesn't make a newspaper man."

"Well, I'm not too old to learn. But see here, Mr. Ellis, doesn't your
contract hold you?"

"The contract that you said was no good? Do you expect it to work all
one way?"

"Well, professional honor, then, I should suppose--"

"Professional honor!" cut in Ellis, with scathing contempt. "You step
in here and buy a paper out of a freak of revenge--"

"Hold on, there! How can you know my motive?"

"What else could it be?"

Hal was silent, finding no answer.

"You see! To feed your mean little spite, you've taken over control of
the biggest responsibility, for any one with any decent sense of
responsibility, that a man could take on his shoulders. And what will
you make of it? A toy! A rich kid's plaything."

"Well, what would you make of it, yourself?" asked Hal.

"A teacher and a preacher. A force to tear down and to build up. To rip
this old town wide open, and remould it nearer to the heart's desire!
That's what a newspaper might be, and ought to be, and could be, by God
in Heaven, if the right man ever had a free hand at it."

"Don't get profane, my boy," tittered Sterne.

"You think that's swearing?" retorted Ellis. "Yes; _you_ would. But I
was nearer praying then than I've ever been since I came to this office.
We'll never live to see that prayer answered, you and I."

"Perhaps," began Hal.

"Oh, perhaps!" Ellis snatched the word from his lips. "Perhaps you're
the boy to do it, eh? Why, it's your kind that's made journalism the
sewer of the professions, full of the scum and drainings of every other
trade's failures. What chance have we got to develop ideals when you
outsiders control the whole business?"

"Hullo!" observed Sterne with a grin. "Where do you come in on the
idealist business, Mac? This is new talk from you."

"New? Why wouldn't it be new? Would I waste it on you, Dave Sterne?"

"You certainly never have since I've known you."

"Call it easing up my mind if you like. I can afford that luxury, now
that you 're not my boss any longer. Not but what it's all Greek to
you."

"Had a drink to-day, Mac?"

"No, damn you. But I'm going out of here and take a hundred. First,
though, I'm going to tell young Bib-and-Tucker over there a thing or two
about his new toy. Oh, yes: you can listen, too, Sterne, but it won't
get to your shelled-in soul."

"You in'trust muh, strangely,"