"We intend to make it a good, dignified magazine," he went on quickly. "We plan to have the school news and some more serious articles in it. We've got a managing board, and an editorial staff, and all the things papers have." "And why do you come to me?" "Because we need a printer." "You wish me to print this remarkable document?" Paul smiled ingenuously. "Yes, sir." There was a silence. Mr. Carter seemed too dumfounded to speak. "You see," went on the boy, "getting out a paper would give us fellows some business experience and at the same time some practice in writing. I believe we could make the thing pay, too." "How many subscribers have you?" "I had two last night--myself and another boy," Paul replied. "But to-day I have a hundred and fifty; by to-morrow I expect to add about two hundred more." "Your circulation increases rapidly," remarked Mr. Carter, the shadow of a smile on his face. "Yes, sir, it does," came innocently from Paul. "How many numbers would you wish to issue annually?" "Ten. We'd want to bring out a paper the first of each month from October to June. With our studies, that would be about all we could handle, I guess." "I guess so, too," agreed Mr. Carter caustically. "How large a paper do you plan to have?" he added an instant later. "Oh, I hadn't thought much about that. It would depend on how much space we could fill up. Perhaps twenty-five pages." The magnate nodded. It was impossible to fathom what was going on in his mind. Was he preparing to burst into a tirade of ridicule, or was he really considering the proposition? "We'd want some good sort of a cover, of course," Paul put in as an afterthought. "In colors, I suppose." "Yes, sir." "And nice paper and clear print." "Yes, indeed," said Paul, not noting the increasing sarcasm in the man's voice. "How much would you charge for an annual subscription?" "A dollar and a half." "Have you any idea what it would cost to get out a paper such as you propose?" There was a ring of contempt in the words. "No, sir." "Well, it would cost a good deal more money than you have to offer, young man." With a cruel satisfaction he saw the boy's face fall. "Then that's the end of it, I guess, so far as your firm is concerned," replied Paul, turning toward the door. "I'll have to take my proposition somewhere else." Something in the boy's proud bearing appealed to the man. It had not dawned on him until now that the lad actually considered the proposal a strictly business one. He had thought that he came to wheedle and beg, and Mr. Carter detested having favors asked of him. Calling Paul back, he motioned him to sit down. "I'm not ready to wind up this matter quite so quickly," he observed. "Let us talk the thing over a little more fully. Suppose I were to make you a proposition." Leaning forward, he took a cigar from the library table and, lighting it, puffed a series of rings into the air.