"There are certain things that I want to do in Burmingham," he announced in leisurely fashion. There was a twinkle of humor beneath the shaggy brows. "Your father, for example, doesn't take the _Echo_. He has none too cordial feeling toward me personally, and in addition he says my paper is too conservative. Then there are firms that I can't get to advertise with us--business houses in the town that are not represented on our pages. And lastly, Judge Damon has constantly refused to do a set of political articles for me. Put those deals through for me, and I'll print your _March Hare_." He leaned back in his chair, regarding Paul with a provoking smile. "But how can I?" gasped Paul, bewildered. Mr. Carter shrugged his shoulders. "That's up to you," he said. "Sometimes fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Your father, for instance, will certainly want this venture of yours to succeed. Tell him that if he takes the _Echo_ instead of the _Mirror_, or in addition to it, it will be a big help to you." "But my father--" burst out Paul, then stopped suddenly. "I know he doesn't like me," put in Mr. Carter calmly. "We differ in politics and we've had one bad set-to on the subject. He won't take my paper--wouldn't do it for love or money. I know perfectly well how he feels." "So that's why you want to make him do it?" "Never you mind, sonny. I want you to get him to. That's enough," was the curt retort. Paul flushed. "And with regard to the advertising I mentioned," continued Mr. Carter, "I am sure you can easily carry that through. The Kimball and Dalrymple boys are in your class, aren't they?" "Yes, sir." "Tell them the _Echo_ wants an ad. from the firm of George L. Kimball and from Dalrymple and Company." "Oh!" "As for Judge Damon--well, if you can't manage the judge, I can't tell you how to do it. All is, I want six articles on The League of Nations. He's an authority on international law and the best man I know to handle the subject. He hasn't, however, much more use for me than your father has, and thus far has politely refused every offer I've made him." "Carl Damon is on our _March Hare_ literary staff," ventured Paul. "There you are!" declared Mr. Carter triumphantly. "Set him at his father's heels and tell him to bring me the six articles I'm after. Then you boys flax round and get me ten new firms to advertise in the _Echo_ and I'll sign a contract with you to print your _March Hare_ in good shape." The lips of the elder man curled humorously. Paul rose. "It's mighty good of you, sir," he murmured. "Don't thank me, youngster, until you've landed your bargain," protested Mr. Carter with shame-faced haste. "Remember I said that when you had fulfilled my conditions _then_ I would print your _March Hare_; I shan't do it until then." "But I am sure we can fulfill them." "You seem very certain of it." "I feel so." "Humph! Have you ever tried to get an ad?" "No, sir."