“Well, I don't; and I never did. A newspaper is a private enterprise.” “It's private property, but it isn't a private enterprise, and in its very nature it can't be. You know I never talk 'journalism' and stuff; it amuses me to hear the young fellows at it, though I think they might be doing something worse than magnifying their office; they might be decrying it. But I've got a few ideas and principles of my own in my back pantaloons pocket.” “Haul them out,” said Bartley. “I don't know that they're very well formulated,” returned Ricker, “and I don't contend that they're very new. But I consider a newspaper a public enterprise, with certain distinct duties to the public. It's sacredly bound not to do anything to deprave or debauch its readers; and it's sacredly bound not to mislead or betray them, not merely as to questions of morals and politics, but as to questions of what we may lump as 'advertising.' Has friend Witherby developed his great ideas of advertisers' rights to you?” Bartley did not answer, and Ricker went on: “Well, then, you can understand my position, when I say it's exactly the contrary.” “You ought to be on a religious newspaper, Ricker,” said Bartley with a scornful laugh. “Thank you, a secular paper is bad enough for me.” “Well, I don't pretend that I make the Events just what I want,” said Bartley. “At present, the most I can do is to indulge in a few cheap dreams of what I should do, if I had a paper of my own.” “What are your dreams? Haul out, as you say.”