I go, would you mind telling me more
definitely why you advise me against the newspaper business?"

"I advise? I never advise as to questions of morals or ethics. I have
too much concern with keeping my own straight."

"Then it _is_ a question of morals?"

"Or ethics. I think so. For example, have you tried your hand at
editorials?"

"Yes."

"Successfully?"

"As far as I've gone."

"Then you are in accord with the editorial policy of The Ledger?"

"Not in everything."

"In its underlying, unexpressed, and immanent theory that this country
can best be managed by an aristocracy, a chosen few, working under the
guise of democracy?"

"No; I don't believe that, of course."

"I do, as it happens. But I fail to see how Christian Banneker's son and
_eleve_ could. Yet you write editorials for The Ledger."

"Not on those topics."

"Have you never had your editorials altered or cut or amended, in such
manner as to give a side-slant toward the paper's editorial fetiches?"

Again and most uncomfortably Banneker felt his color change. "Yes; I
have," he admitted.

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? The Chief controls the editorial page."

"You might have stopped writing for it."

"I needed the money. No; that isn't true. More than the money, I wanted
the practice and the knowledge that I could write editorials if I wished
to."

"Are you thinking of going on the editorial side?"

"God forbid!" cried Banneker.

"Unwilling to deal in other men's ideas, eh? Well, Mr. Banneker, you
have plenty of troubles before you. Interesting ones, however."

"How much could I make by magazine writing?" asked Banneker abruptly.

"Heaven alone knows. Less than you need, I should say, at first. How
much do you need?"

"My space bill last week was one hundred and twenty-one dollars. I
filled 'em up on Sunday specials."

"And you need that?"

"It's all gone," grinned Banneker boyishly.

"As between a safe one hundred dollars-plus, and a highly speculative
nothing-and-upwards, how could any prudent person waver?" queried Mr.
Gaines as he shook hands in farewell.

For the first time in the whole unusual interview, Banneker found
himself misliking the other's tone, particularly in the light emphasis
placed upon the word prudent. Banneker did not conceive kindly of
himself as a prudent person.

Back at the office, Banneker got out the story of which he had spoken to
Mr. Gaines, and read it over. It seemed to him good,