said Sterne, and looked over to Hal for
countenance of his uneasy amusement.

But the new owner did not appear amused. He had faced around in his
chair and now sat regarding the glooming and exalted Ellis with an
intent surprise.

"A plaything! That's what you think you've bought, young Mr. Harrington
Surtaine. One of two things you'll do with it: either you'll try to run
it yourself, and you'll dip deeper and deeper into Poppa's medicine-bag
till he gets sick of it and closes you up; or you'll hire some practical
man to manage it, and insist on dividends that'll keep it just where it
is now. And that's pretty low, even for a Worthington paper."

"It won't live on blackmail, at any rate," said Hal, his mind reverting
to its original grievance.

"Maybe it will. You won't know it if it does. Anyhow, it'll live on
suppression and distortion and manipulation of news, because it'll have
to, if it's going to live at all."

"You mean that is the basis of the newspaper business as it is to-day?"

"Generally speaking. It certainly is in Worthington."

"You're frank, at any rate. Where's all your glowing idealism now?"

"Vanished into mist. All idealism goes that way, doesn't it?"

"Not if you back it up with work. You see, Mr. Ellis, I'm something of
an idealist myself."

"The Certina brand of idealism. Guaranteed under the Pure Thought and
Deed Act."

"Our money may have been made a little--well, blatantly," said Hal,
flushing. "But at least it's made honestly." He was too intent on his
subject to note either Sterne's half-wink or Ellis's stare of blank
amazement. "And I'm going to run this newspaper on the same high
principles. I don't quite reconcile your standards with the practices of
this paper, Mr. Ellis--"

"Mac has nothing to do with the policy of the paper, Mr. Surtaine," put
in Sterne. "He's only an employee."

"Then why don't you get work on some paper that practices your
principles?"

"Hard to find. Not having been born with a silver spoon, full of
Certina, in my mouth, I have to earn my own living. It isn't profitable
to make a religion of one's profession, Mr. Surtaine. Not that I think
you need the warning. But I've tried it, and I know."

"Do you know, it's rather a pity you don't like me," said Hal, with
ruminative frankness. "I think I could use some of that religion of
yours."

"Not on the market," returned Ellis shortly.

"You see," pursued the other, "it's really my own money I've put