“Fifteen hundred! Why, that won’t do any good! How much would each grad have to give to make thirty thousand?”
“One hundred dollars,” answered Harry promptly.
“Well, that’s a lot,” said Dick thoughtfully; “because some of them probably can’t afford that much.”
“Maybe some of them will give more,” suggested Chub.
“That’s so; some might give a thousand. If only ten of them would do that then the others would have to give only seventy-five, or—well, something like that.”
“I guess if we get ten dollars apiece out of them on the average we’ll be doing well,” said Chub pessimistically.
“We’ve got to put it to them so that they’ll want to give a lot,” said Dick. “We’ve got to get together and work up a letter that’ll make ’em weep! Roy ought to help with that, and so I suggest we put that over until the next meeting. Meanwhile let’s each get up what he thinks would be about right and we’ll compare the—the appeals and work them together next time. Then we’ll have it printed.”
“Before that, though,” said Chub, “we ought to talk it over with the Doctor.”
“Yes, we’ll do that when we have the appeal written out,” answered Dick. “And we’ll get him to let us have the names and addresses of the grads. And after we’ve posted the letters we’ll get up a subscription list and circulate it through the school. I’ve figured that we ought to get two hundred and seventy dollars that way, without anything from the Doctor, and I dare say he’d like to give something.”
“Of course he would,” said Harry. “Maybe he’d give—a hundred! You see, we wouldn’t want to go away this summer, anyhow, if the dormitory was being built.”