"You can usually figure on the direction he will take, though," retorted the under-classman, whose name was Converse. "1920 has done the school a big service by founding the paper and outlining its policy. My father was saying only last night that the magazine was well worth putting on a permanent business basis. He said that if an experienced publishing house had the handling of it it could be made into a money-making proposition—that is if everybody, young and old, would keep up their same enthusiasm for turning in stuff so the tone of the thing was not spoiled."
"I believe that, too."
"It wouldn't be such a bad idea if next year we could get in an experienced hand to help us, would it?"
The moment Paul dreaded had come.
He summoned all his dignity.
"I am not sure," he answered, "just what 1920 will decide to do with the paper when we finish the year. We may sell it."
"What! You don't mean sell it to an outsider?"
"We have an opportunity to do so."
"But—but—how could you? It's the property of the school, isn't it?" stammered Converse.
"No, not as I see it. A few of us 1920 fellows started it and have done all the work, or the bulk of it. If we choose to sell it, I don't see why we haven't a right to."