What have you seen in daily journalism?"
"A chance. Possibly a great chance."
"To think for yourself?"
Banneker started, at this ready application of his words to the problem
which was already outlining itself by small, daily limnings in his mind.
"To write for others what you think for yourself?" pursued the editor,
giving sharpness and definition to the outline.
"Or," concluded Mr. Gaines, as his hearer preserved silence, "eventually
to write for others what they think for themselves?" He smiled
luminously. "It's a problem in stress: _x_ = the breaking-point of
honesty. Your father was an absurdly honest man. Those of us who knew
him best honored him."
"Are you doubting my honesty?" inquired Banneker, without resentment or
challenge.
"Why, yes. Anybody's. But hopefully, you understand."
"Or the honesty of the newspaper business?"
A sigh ruffled the closer tendrils of Mr. Gaines's beard. "I have never
been a journalist in the Park Row sense," he said regretfully.
"Therefore I am conscious of solutions of continuity in my views. Park
Row amazes me. It also appalls me. The daily stench that arises from the
printing-presses. Two clouds; morning and evening.... Perhaps it is only
the odor of the fertilizing agent, stimulating the growth of ideas.
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