“A paper of your own,” concluded Embree. He fell thoughtful. “Ever write any editorials?” he asked presently. “No.” “Why don’t you try it?” “I don’t know. I never thought of it.” “Think of it now.” “Reporters aren’t supposed to go outside their own department.” “Pshaw! A newspaper is like any other business; it needs all the ability it can command. Now, I believe you could write editorials. And if you care to try, I’ll be glad to speak a word to Mr. Farley.” “That’s mighty good of you, Senator.” “Not at all. Gives me a chance to set myself right in your mind,” smiled the other, “for appearing to interfere with your activities. We need a new paper, a new kind of paper here in the capital,” he added after another of his pauses. Jeremy Robson became uncomfortable. “I guess I’ve been talking through my hat,” he confessed. “It must take a lot of capital to buy a newspaper.” “Not so much, for a small-city plant.” “More than I’ll ever see, though.” “If the right man came to light and proved himself, he might find backing. That’s why I take an interest in the local newspaper situation. It’s only a question of the right man. We’re looking for him.” “I’d like to be that man,” blurted the caller. “But _are_ you? That’s the question.” The Senator’s fine eyes twinkled. But his tone was serious enough. “How should I know, myself? I’ve only had a few months’ experience. Unless you count college journalism.” “I do,” answered the other unexpectedly. “A client of mine is a trustee of Kirk College. I had occasion to follow the Kirk-Bell’s attacks on the Board in the intercollegiate football mix-up. You were editing The Bell, I believe.” “Yes,” admitted Robson. “I guess we were a pretty brash lot.” “All of that. And you were quite wrong. But you were fighting for what you thought a principle, and I liked the way you fought.” He put up a large, well-kempt hand and pushed a wave of hair back from his forehead. “I’m fighting for a principle here.” “Political?” said Jeremy Robson. “Do politics interest you?” “They make me sick,” returned the reporter vigorously. “That’s bad. Why?” “Because of the cheap skates and dumheads I run into whenever I get a legislative job.” “On behalf of myself and my colleagues, I thank you.” Jeremy Robson blushed. “Well, you know I don’t mean you, Senator.” “Possibly some of my associates are shrewder than you give them credit for being. But the State Legislature is n’t politics. It’s only the sieve through which politics pass. If you’re not interested in politics, the newspaper business is n’t your line.” “I did n’t say I was n’t interested in politics.” “True enough. You did n’t.” Embree shot one of his reckoning glances at the young fellow. “Well, if you can prove yourself--if you can fight as well as you write and write as hard as you fight--you’re going to be worth keeping an eye on. And I’m going to keep an eye on you for my own reasons.”