“The Record did n’t spoil you. I was afraid it might. They’re so slick and respectable over there! But as soon as you began to get your muscle into The Guardian’s editorials, I saw which side you were on. And the tax attack settled it in my mind that you’re for the public and against the corporation grafters.” “I’m against the corporations when they don’t play fair.” “That’s good enough for me! They never do play fair. Not in politics.” “I don’t go that far,” said Jeremy. “You will,” smiled the other. “Give you time. You’ll come to it. You’re with us and you’re going to be with us stronger and stronger.” “It depends on who ‘us’ is, and what policies are involved,” replied the editor, not wholly pleased at being thus confidently catalogued. “The radicals. The clean, common voters who believe that the people should run their own government for themselves.” “So far, all right. I’m for that.” “I knew you were. And here I am.” The smile now fairly surcharged the little office. “And here you are. What can I do for you, Senator?” “Wrong, my boy! Wrong for once. It’s the other way around.” “What can you do for me, then?” The smile was replaced by a look of candor and earnestness. “Mr. Robson, you’ve got to increase the sale of this paper, have n’t you?” “Yes.” “I can boost the circulation of The Guardian a thousand copies. Perhaps fifteen hundred.” “Will you take the job of circulation manager?” asked Jeremy, smiling. “That’s another point. I’ll come to that later. Now, there’s no bluff about this, Robson. I’m in dead earnest.” “If you can tell me how to put on circulation without its costing all I’ve got--” “It’ll cost you nothing. Absolutely nothing.” “Then it will be different from any circulation scheme I’ve heard of yet.” “Listen. Up in the Northern Tier I’m strong. They know me. They believe in me. If I pass the word that The Guardian is my organ--” “The Guardian is nobody’s organ.” “I understand. The mouthpiece of our policies, I should have said. The policies and principles you and I stand for, reform and anti-dollar-domination. If I pass that word about The Guardian they’ll take it like the Bible.” “There might be something in that,” conceded the editor, who knew the almost idolatrous quality of Embree’s following in his own district. “Make no mistake about it. It’ll mean four or five hundred copies in my own town, and it ought to run to a thousand more in the county outside.” “That won’t help much in getting local advertising, here in Fenchester.” “No. But it will help out your foreign advertising.” “How do you know so much about the newspaper game?” asked the editor, struck by the other’s use of the technical term. “Ever been in it?” “I study everything that has a bearing on politics in this State. I could pretty nearly tell you how much The Guardian stands to lose this year.” “Don’t!” said Jeremy, with a wry face.