"Come in, Paul," he called cordially. "Your father told me about this undertaking of yours, and I hear I am to be one of your victims."
"I'm afraid you are, sir."
"Well, well! I suppose doing what we do not enjoy is good for our characters," returned the judge mischievously. "If you boys propose to do some serious writing of English and secure a little business experience, certainly your aim is a worthy one and we older folks should back you up. It's a far more sensible vent for your energy, to my mind, than so much football."
"Oh, we're not going to give over our football, sir," asserted Paul with prompt candor.
"No, indeed! Keep up your games by all means. But moderation is a jewel. A little football goes a good way, while business training is never amiss."
"We expect to get quite a bit of business training out of issuing our paper," said Paul modestly.
"And in order to do it, you young rascals are going to rope me into your schemes, are you?" demanded the judge.
"Mr. Carter is."
"It's the same thing—or rather it isn't the same thing, for what I would not consent to do for Mr. Carter I am going to do for you boys."
Paul murmured his thanks.