“That’s it, of course. The right kind of a newspaper.
“Naturally you wouldn’t make so munificent a gift to the wrong kind of newspaper. Is this the right kind?”
“It always has been,” said Mr. Fownes.
“What made it the right kind?”
“Your uncle—the former proprietor—relied on my advice. Consulted with me daily.... During many years his paper made few mistakes.”
“So, if I consult with you—daily—and act upon your advice, I’m sure to have the right kind of a paper, too?... And in that case you would cancel the chattel mortgage?”
“To be sure—exactly.”
“But if, on the contrary, I should decide to run this paper myself, as I see fit, without taking advice from anybody, and printing what I think should be printed?”
Mr. Fownes pondered this briefly. “Then,” he said, “I should have to wait—and determine how sound your judgment is.... I fear your sympathies—natural sympathies for a young woman—sway you.... Er ... as in the instance of this young man. His letter was not kindly, not considerate. It hurt people’s feelings. Then, it appears, you have hired him.... I hope that step may be reconsidered.... Gibeon—found this young man unsatisfactory.”
“Would that have anything to do with—the chattel mortgage?”