“May it be all the editors and owners in a lump!” said Banneker. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk louder. I’m feeling reckless.”
“Bad frame of mind for a man seeking a job. By the way, what are you out after, exactly? Aiming at the editorial page, aren’t you?”
Banneker leaned over the table, his face earnest to the point of somberness. “Pop,” he said, “you know I can write.”
“You can write like the devil,” Edmonds offered up on twin supports of vapor.
“Yes, and I can do more than that. I can think.”
“For self, or others?” propounded the veteran.
“I take you. I can think for myself and make it profitable to others, if I can find the chance. Why, Pop, this editorial game is child’s play!”
“You’ve tried it?”
“Experimentally. The opportunities are limitless. I could make people read editorials as eagerly as they read scandal or baseball.”
“How?”