“Ah, yes!” said Jeremy, thinking slowly and carefully. “You’re assuming that, with the change in the local political situation, The Guardian is going to shift its principles. Well, Mr. Clark, if you expect that we’re going back one inch from the stand we’ve taken on public utilities, and the P.-U. Corporation in particular, you’re badly fooled. We’re just as much against you as if we were still for Governor Embree. I thought I had made that clear to Judge Dana.”
“I have proposed no bargain,” stated the magnate aridly. “I make an offer. No conditions are attached.”
“Then I’ve got to tell you frankly that we’re not doing very well.”
“So I am informed. What appears to be the trouble? Will the new paper cut into your circulation to an extent—”
“Newspapers do not live by circulation alone, Mr. Clark, but chiefly by advertising.”
“Certainly; certainly. Local merchants appear to be pretty well represented in your pages.”
“At reduced space—or worse. Take the case of Vogt, the florist, who has always been good for a hundred dollars a month with us. Perhaps you can point out Mr. Vogt’s present space in The Guardian.”
The visitor ran through the paper handed to him.
“I fail to find Mr. Vogt’s advertisement.”
“He’s out.”