"Take care that you don't involve us all in the crash. Meantime, what is the rest of your editorial page; a species of sedative to lull their minds? Who is Evadne Ellington?" "One of our most prominent young murderesses." "And you let her sign a column on your page?" "Oh, she's a highly moral murderess. Killed her lover in defense of her honor, you know. Which means that she shot him when he got tired of her. A sobbing jury promptly acquitted her, and now she's writing 'Warnings to Young Girls.' They're most improving and affecting, I assure you. We look after that." "Ban! I hate to have you so cynical." "Not at all," he protested. "Ask the Prevention of Vice people and the criminologists. They'll tell you that Evadne's column is a real influence for good among the people who read and believe it." "What class is Reformed Rennigan's sermon aimed at?" she inquired, with wrinkling nostrils. "'Soaking it to Satan'; is that another regular feature?" "Twice a week. It gives us a Y.M.C.A. circulation that is worth a good deal to us. Outside of my double column, the page is a sort of forum. I'll take anything that is interesting or authoritative. For example, if Royce Melvin had something of value to say to the public about music, where else could she find so wide a hearing as through The Patriot?" "No, I thank you," returned his visitor dryly. "No? Are you sure? What is your opinion of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' as a national song?" "It's dreadful." "Why?" "For every reason. The music misfits the words. It's beyond the range of most voices. The harmonies are thin. No crowd in the world can sing it. What is the value or inspiration of a national song that the people can't sing?" "Ask it of The Patriot's public. I'll follow it up editorially; 'Wanted; A Song for America.'" "I will," she answered impulsively. Then she laughed. "Is that the way you get your contributors?" "Often, as the spider said to the fly," grinned Banneker the shameless. "Take a thousand words or more and let us have your picture." "No. Not that. I've seen my friends' pictures too often in your society columns. By the way, how comes it that a paper devoted to the interests of the common people maintains that aristocratic feature?" "Oh, the common people eat it alive. Russell Edmonds is largely responsible for keeping it up. You should hear his theory. It's ingenious. I'll send for him." Edmonds, who chanced to be at his desk, entered the editorial den with his tiny pipe between his teeth, and, much disconcerted at finding a lady there, hastily removed it until Miss Van Arsdale suggested its restitution. "What? The society page?" said he. "Yes; I was against dropping it. You see, Miss Van Arsdale, I'm a Socialist in belief." "Is there a pun concealed in that or are you serious, Mr. Edmonds?" "Serious. I'm always that on the subjects of Socialism and The Patriot." "Then you must explain if I'm to understand."