"Then we ought to. A good, rousing sensation of that sort is just what the paper needs."
"We won't get it. There's too many ropes on the Boy Boss. First the girl and now the old man."
"Wait and see. He's got good stuff in him and he's being educated every day. Give him time."
"Mr. Wayne, I'd like to see the health office reports," called Hal, and the two went out.
Selecting one of his pet cigars, Dr. Surtaine advanced upon McGuire Ellis, extending it. "Mac, you're a good fellow at bottom," he said persuasively.
"What's the price," asked Ellis, "of the cigar and the compliment together? In other words, what do you want of me?"
"Keep your hands off the boy."
"Didn't I offer fair and square to match you for his soul? You insisted on fight."
"If you'd just let him alone," pursued the quack, "he'd come around right side up with care. He's sound and sensible at bottom. He's got a lot of me in him. But you keep feeding him up on your yellow journal ideas. What'll they ever get him? Trouble; nothing but trouble. Even if you should make a sort of success of the paper with your wild sensationalism it wouldn't be any real good to Hal. It wouldn't get him anywhere with the real people. It'd be a sheet he'd always have to be a little ashamed of. I tell you what, Mac, in order to respect himself a man has got to respect his business."
"Just so," said McGuire Ellis. "Do you respect your business, Doc?"