"At how much a subscrip, oh promoter?"
"I don't know," Paul responded vaguely. "One—twenty-five per—"
"Per—haps," cut in Melville, "and perhaps not. Who do you think, Kipper, is going to pay a perfectly good dollar and a quarter for the privilege of seeing his name in print and reading all the things he knew before?"
In spite of himself Paul chuckled.
"Maybe they wouldn't know them before."
"Football and hockey! Nix! Don't they all go to the games?"
"Not always. Besides, we'd put other things in—grinds on the Freshies—all sorts of stuff."
"I say! That wouldn't be so worse, would it?" declared Melville with appreciation.
He looked down and began to dig a hole in the earth with the toe of his much worn sneaker.
"Your idea is all right, Kip—corking," he asserted at length. "But the ducats—where would those come from? It would cost a pile to print a paper."