“I should think you’d be glad to proclaim your engagement to all the world,” he added. “Why on earth are you keeping it a secret?” “Because Melba insists upon it,” Carroll explained. “You see, poor little girl, she’s an orphan, and her uncle and cousin are the only kin she has. She doesn’t want to be turned out of her uncle’s home, and she has an idea that that’s what would happen if the fact of our engagement were to become known to that old fox.” Hawley nodded. “I see. Does the uncle know that you are even on speaking terms with her?” “Oh, yes! He is aware that we are acquainted. I used to call on her at the house when I first came to Oldham, until he made it quite clear to me that my presence there was not desired--by him.” “And since then you have kept away?” chuckled Hawley. “Sure! I didn’t want to embarrass Melba. Of course, we have been meeting frequently outside right along; but I don’t think the old man has any suspicion of that.” “Well, why don’t you elope with the girl?” the Camera Chap suggested. “It seems to me that, under the circumstances, that’s the only thing to do. If I were in your place, Fred, I’d have married her long ago.” Carroll frowned. “You’re talking like an idiot,” he declared indignantly. “How can I get married when I haven’t a cent to my name? As I told you the other day, the _Bulletin_ isn’t making enough money to support even me alone. If I married Melba in my present circumstances I’d deserve to be sent to State’s prison--or a lunatic asylum.” “Well, what’s the matter with giving up the _Bulletin_ and going back to Park Row?” the Camera Chap suggested, watching his friend’s face narrowly. “As a reporter, you could at least make enough to support a wife.” To Hawley’s great joy, a grim, fighting look came to Carroll’s face at these words. “Give up the _Bulletin_!” he exclaimed tensely. “Not while there’s a breath of life left in the old sheet. I’m no quitter, Frank. I thought you knew me better than that. Those fellows have got me groggy, I must admit; but they haven’t got me quite down and out yet. When that happens, I may go back to Park Row and hunt a job as a reporter, but not before. “And even if I wanted to quit,” he went on, with a whimsical smile, “I couldn’t do it. Melba wouldn’t hear of it. She’s thoroughly in sympathy with the policy of the _Bulletin_, and she wouldn’t have much use for me if I were to give up the fight.” The Camera Chap grabbed his friend’s hand impulsively. “Old man,” he cried, “I’m tickled to death to hear you talk like that--although it’s only what I expected, of course. “Tell me, Mr. Editor,” he went on eagerly, “could you use some snapshots on your front page every issue--good, live snapshots taken on the streets of Oldham? It seems to me that they would brighten up the sheet and help circulation.” “Of course they would,” Carroll declared regarding Hawley with astonishment. “I’d be mighty glad to have them. But where could I get them?”