Perner subsided, and each seized a bill of fare, which was studied with stern solemnity for some moments. Dinner was a matter of perhaps more respectful consideration with these rather prosperous bohemians than even the new paper, which they still regarded, and possibly with some reason, as a sort of farce, or than the Muses, whom they were inclined to woo somewhat cavalierly. "I should think two portions of clams would be enough," suggested Van Dorn, at length; "then we can have something solid in the way of meat and things." Perner protested. "Oh, pshaw, Van! I want a full portion myself, and Barry wants one, too; don't you, Barry?" Barrifield, who had come from a coast where pie and clams are the natural heritage, suggested that, as the portions here were something less than a peck each, they might compromise on three. This Perner reluctantly agreed to, and the usual extra sirloin with mushrooms was added. Pie was then selected by Perner and Barrifield, and various delicacies by the others. "A large pot of coffee," concluded Van Dorn. "Ale with the clams," suggested Livingstone. The others nodded. "Martinis first," interrupted Perner. Then to the waiter, "Four Martinis--and don't be all night getting them here." "Rochefort, and Panetela cigars with the coffee," supplemented Barrifield. "Cigarettes for me," corrected Livingstone, "Turkish Sultanas, small package, gold tips." There was a note of gold in the atmosphere. The order was not prodigal, but there was an unstinted go-as-you-please manner about it which made the waiter bow and vanish hastily. Barrifield turned to Perner. "Now," he said, "what's your great scheme?" Perner had already drawn a folded type-written sheet from his inside coat pocket. "It's Van's idea," he said, with becoming modesty. "I may have elaborated it some and put it into words, that's all. But it's simply tremendous! Premiums have been done. Cameras and watches have been given with twelve papers of bluing or needles, but this thing has never been done by anybody--at least, not in this form." "That's right!" said Livingstone. "No, sir, old man; I don't believe it has," confessed Van Dorn, with some reluctance at doing justice to his own conception. Barrifield looked from one to the other with large expectancy in his eyes. "Let's hear it," he said anxiously. Perner unfolded the paper and glanced at the tables about them to see that no one was listening. Then he began to read in a low, earnest voice: "CASH PAID FOR NAMES! "TWENTY-FIVE CENTS FOR EACH! "The proprietors of the 'Whole Family,' the greatest and most magnificent weekly paper ever published, make to the whole English-speaking world the following unheard-of offer. "I got that style of eloquence from Frisby's advertisements," Perner paused to explain. "It catches 'em, you know." The others nodded. Perner continued: