"A  plaything!  That's  what  you  think  you've  bought,
young  Mr.  Harrington  Surtaine.  One  of  two  things  you  '11
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  '11  hire  some  prac
tical  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  manipula
tion  of  news,  because  it  '11  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,  does
n't  it?"

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

70


THE  OWNER

"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.
