"I am afraid you are right," said Basil, with a smile in which a touch of sadness might be detected.
"Why not try something else?" asked the editor.
"It is difficult to know what," replied Basil; "there are so few things for which I am fitted."
"There is one in which you would make your mark."
"May I know what it is? I may differ from you; but it would be a pleasant hearing."
"Sub-editor of the Princetown Argus, for instance," suggested the editor, coming straight to the point. He was not the kind of man to take two bites at a cherry.
Basil looked him in the face; the proposition startled and gratified him. "You rush at a conclusion somewhat hastily," he said.
"Not at all. I know what I am talking about. You are cut out for just that position."
"I have never done anything in the literary way."
"I'll take the risk," said the editor. "A man may go floundering about all his life without falling into his proper groove. You are not bound to any other engagement in Princetown?"