Reassured, Dick took away with him the cash he had come prepared to deposit, and both adjourned to the nearest café to celebrate their good fortune in finding so accommodating a publisher. A happy omen, surely, for the success of the new magazine!
All that week Dick, not without a twinge of conscience, accepted help from Roger in his "prep." so that they might both give more time to the arrangement of the Rag's first number. Outsiders had not yet been invited to contribute; the first issue was to be a surprise. Every boy in the school was to receive a free copy, in the confident hope that his subscription would be forthcoming when he had digested the mental food afforded by its contents.
It is the way of all amateurs to be over-sure at first.
A rude awakening awaited Dick and Roger. Had the Thames flowed past Foxenby on the morning of publication, it would have run no risk of being set afire. Nimble youngsters aided in the distribution of the copies, and by midday every boy in the school had received The Rooke's House Rag. There was, however, no sign of anyone missing a meal to read it. Some copies, alas, were flapping against the shrubbery trees—cast adrift, as is often the fate of literature circulated free.
Bravely pretending that their hearts were not somewhere in the region of their boots, Dick and Roger smiled at one another.
"Taken their breath away, I fancy, old chap," said Dick. "Knocked them speechless. Anyhow, the silence is uncanny."
His comment was immediately followed by the appearance of Luke Harwood, who came towards him with outstretched hand. With such a smile, too—radiantly disarming!
"Congratulations, Forge, old man!" he said. "A clinking idea, and a topping first number. How 'squat' you kept it, too—quite a refreshing surprise."
Gripping Harwood's hand hard, Dick positively blushed.
"You like it, Harwood?"