"You won't continue to do that," advised Dr. Surtaine bluntly, "if you keep on trying to reform your bosses."
"But what makes me sick," continued Ellis, disregarding this hint, "is to have people assume that newspaper men are a lot of semi-crooks and shysters. What does the petty grafting that a few reporters do—and, mind you, there's mighty little of it done—amount to, compared with the rottenness of a paper run by my church-going reformer with the business standards?"
A call from the business office took Hal away. At once Ellis turned to the older man.
"Are you going to run the paper, Doc?"
"No: no, my boy. Hal owns it, on his own money."
"Because if you are, I quit."
"That's no way to talk," said the magnate, aggrieved. "There isn't a man in Worthington treats his employees better or gets along with 'em smoother than me."
"That's right, too, I guess. Only I don't happen to want to be your employee."
"You're frank, at least, Mr. Ellis."
"Why not? I've laid my cards on the table. You know me for what I am, a disgruntled dreamer. I know you for what you are, a hard-headed business man. We don't have to quarrel about it. Tell you what I'll do: I'll match you, horse-and-horse, for the soul of your boy."