"Authors, however," he went on, "are not as badly off as they were before they had the copyright. Their stories can no longer be stolen with impunity as in the past. They are better paid, too. Many an olden-time author received very scant remuneration for his labor; sometimes he received none at all. Many had to beg the patronage of the rich in order to get their works printed; contracts were unfair and publishers unprincipled. The unfortunate author was the prey of vultures who cheated him at every turn. Many died in extreme poverty, only to become famous when it was too late. In our day the law has revolutionized most of these injustices, and although there are still unprincipled publishers as there are always scamps in every calling, the best class houses deal honorably with their writers, transforming the relation between author and publisher into one of friendliness and confidence rather than one of animosity and distrust." "I suppose it is policy for a publisher to be fair." "It is more than policy; it is honesty," returned Mr. Cameron. "It does, however, pay, for without the writer the publisher could not exist, and no writer is going to put his work in the hands of a person he cannot trust. It is a short-sighted man who kills the goose that lays the golden egg!" CHAPTER IX PAUL EMBARKS ON ANOTHER VENTURE "Do you know, Dad, the _March Hare_ is rapidly turning into an elephant," announced Paul to his father one morning not long after the conversation of the previous chapter. "I am having more and more copy to prepare for Mr. Carter all the time, and am doing every bit of it by hand. It takes hours to get it ready. I'm beginning to think I ought to have a typewriter. How much does one cost? Have you any idea?" "Typewriters come at all prices," his father answered. "What I should advise you to get would be one of the small, light-weight machines. They are far less expensive than the others and do excellent work." "About how much would one cost?" "Fifty or sixty dollars." Paul gave a low whistle. "That's all very well, sir," he laughed. "But where am I to get the fifty or sixty bones to pay for it?" "I don't know, my boy. That's up to you. Doesn't your business manager provide you with a typewriter?" "Not on your life!" replied Paul. "Much as ever I can wring enough money out of him to cover my incidental expenses. No, the paper isn't fitting up offices for its hard-working staff. If I get a typewriter it must be my own venture." "You would always find such a machine useful," returned his father slowly. "It would not be money thrown away." Paul glanced down thoughtfully. "I've half a mind to save up and get one," he said suddenly. "I could put my war-saving stamps into it," he added. "So you could." "I have nearly twenty-five dollars' worth of them already." "Oh, that's fine! I had no idea you had been so thrifty." Mr. Cameron looked pleased.