"The big dailies do not appreciate us. They never write us up. Why should we not write ourselves up--chronicle our doings, that such noteworthy deeds may never be forgotten?" A ripple of laughter greeted the interrogation. Paul saw his advantage and went on. He painted in glowing terms his dream of the _March Hare_. Every instant the interest and enthusiasm of his audience increased. Once a storm of clapping broke in upon his words but he raised his hand and the noise ceased. Quietly he closed his modest speech with the suggestion that a managing board be appointed to put the project into operation, if such were the pleasure of the meeting. Before he could seat himself a dozen boys were on their feet. "Mr. President!" shouted Melville Carter. "Mr. President!" came at the same moment from Donald Hall. "Mr. President! Mr. President!" The cry rang from every corner of the room. Paul listened to each speaker in turn. 1920 was not only unanimous but insistent upon the new venture. In less time than it takes to tell it Paul himself was elected editor-in-chief, an editorial staff had been appointed, Melville Carter was voted in as business manager, and Billie Ransome as publicity agent. Nor did 1920's fervor end there. Before the meeting adjourned every person in the class had not only pledged himself to subscribe to the _March Hare_ but had promised to get one or more outside subscriptions. Paul, descending from the speaker's desk, was the center of an admiring and eager group of students. "I say, Kip, where are you going to get the paper printed?" questioned Donald Hall. "I don't know yet," replied Paul jauntily. "We'll have to see how much money we are going to have." "Why don't you get Mel Carter's father to do it? He publishes the _Echo_, and Mel is our business manager. That ought to give us some pull." Paul started. "I never thought of asking Mr. Carter," he returned slowly. "I don't believe Melville did, either. He's kind of a grouch. Still, he couldn't do more than refuse. Of course the _Echo_ is pretty highbrow. Mr. Carter might feel we were beneath his notice." "No matter," was Donald's cheerful answer. "I guess we could live through it if he did sit on us. Besides, maybe he wouldn't. Perhaps he'd enjoy fostering young genius. You said you were going to make the paper worth while and something more than an athletic journal." "Yes, I am," retorted Paul promptly. "We've got to make it tally up with what the subscribers pay for it. I mean to put in politics, poetry, philosophy, and every other sort of dope," he concluded with a smile. "You certainly are the one and only great editor-in-chief!" chuckled Donald. Then he added hastily: "There's Melville now. Why don't you buttonhole him about his father?" "I will," cried Paul, hurrying across the corridor to waylay his chum. "Hi, Cart!" Melville came to a stop. "Say, what's the matter with your father printing the _March Hare_ for us?"