'Tommy, you are impertinent,' said Logan. 'Oh, hang it, where is there
an opening, a demand, for the broken, the stoney broke? A man cannot
live by casual paragraphs alone.'

'And these generally reckoned "too high-toned for our readers,"' said
Merton.

'If I could get the secretaryship of a golf club!' Logan sighed.

'If you could get the Chancellorship of the Exchequer! I reckon that
there are two million applicants for secretaryships of golf clubs.'

'Or a land agency,' Logan murmured.

'Oh, be practical!' cried Merton. 'Be inventive! Be modern! Be up to
date! Think of something _new_! Think of a felt want, as the
Covenanting divine calls it: a real public need, hitherto but dimly
present, and quite a demand without a supply.'

'But that means thousands in advertisements,' said Logan, 'even if we ran
a hair-restorer. The ground bait is too expensive. I say, I once knew a
fellow who ground-baited for salmon with potted shrimps.'

'Make a paragraph on him then,' said Merton.

'But results proved that there was no felt want of potted shrimps--or not
of a fly to follow.'

'Your collaboration in the search, the hunt for money, the quest,
consists merely in irrelevancies and objections,' growled Merton,