Again the joyous young publishers-to-be burst forth into cheers.
“What can I pay for?” laughed Mrs. Talmage.
“You’ll soon find that you are paying the heaviest tax of all in overseeing the publishers,” replied Uncle Ben.
“How soon can we start?” demanded the Bobolinks.
“What shall we write?” asked the Blue Birds.
Uncle Ben raised both hands for silence, and as soon as order was restored again, he spoke.
“We have just installed new machines in our printing plant in New York and intend selling the old ones to some small job printer who can use second-hand machines. Now, I can pick out a small press, stitcher, and other things that you will need, and ship them out here. You have electricity here, and a small motor will furnish the power. When you are ready to go to press, I will send out an experienced man from our shop to direct the work and see that everything is done properly. The addressing and wrapping can be done by all of you. Of course, as far as we have gone, it all sounds like great sport, but there is another side to this plan that must be thoroughly agreed upon before we go any further. If you start this undertaking, you will have to keep on with it. At a certain date each month your periodical must be ready for mailing. You will have to write and edit, and print, whether the skating is fine, or the gymnasium is at your disposal, or whether Thanksgiving dinner makes you feel lazy, or a toothache keeps you awake all night. Publishing work is very interesting, most instructive, and profitable, but it is work, work, work, and not all play!”
“Oh, we know that, Uncle Ben,” said Ned. “And we’ll promise to take all of the consequences that go with the game.”
The other boys seconded Ned’s statement, and the Blue Birds eagerly agreed to the plan, so Uncle Ben really had no further objections to make.
“Oh, I can hardly wait to begin my page,” cried Ruth.