"I'll bet that's a bully girl!" decided Van Dorn, with emphasis. "I can tell by the handwriting."
"She is that," agreed Livingstone.
"Let's have it framed and hung up as a souvenir," suggested Perner.
"Give it to me," said Livingstone. "I have an idea."
Perner made a copy of it first for the Colonel. His enthusiasm had returned.
"She wants a Bible," he commented. "I say, fellows, don't you think we'd better have a thousand Bibles sent right up? That seems to be the premium they want."
"Better wait till to-morrow," advised Van Dorn; "then we'll have the money to pay for them with."
This seemed good advice. The rest of the day they spent between the studios and the circulation department below. No further subscriptions were received, however, and though they remarked to each other that of course they did not expect them, it was evident that evening found them somewhat more silent than usual.
They were up next morning early. Breakfast was a mere form, and conversation difficult. They made a pretense of the usual banter, it is true, but the laughter sounded spasmodic and strange. The long strain upon them had told.
Perner reached the big mail-box first, and struck it with his foot. It rang hollow. He peered down through the long opening in the top.