"But you would plan to take subscriptions," said the elder man. "Surely you are not going to give your literary efforts away free of charge."
"N—o," came slowly from Paul. Then he continued more positively. "Oh, of course we should try to make what we wrote worth selling. We'd make people pay for it. But we couldn't charge much. Most of us have been paying for our Liberty Bonds and haven't a great deal to spare. I know I haven't."
"About what price do you think you could get for a school paper?"
"I don't know. I haven't thought much about it. Perhaps a dollar, or a dollar and a quarter a year. Not more than that."
"And how many members would be likely to take it?"
Paul meditated.
"There are about fifty seniors," he said. "But of course the other three classes would subscribe—at least some of them would. We shouldn't confine the thing simply to the doings of the seniors. We should put in not only general school news but items about the lower classes as well so that the paper would interest everybody. It ought to bring us in quite a little money. Shouldn't you think we could buy a press and run it for two hundred dollars?"
"Have you considered the price of paper and of ink, son?"
"No; but they can't cost much," was the sanguine response.
"Alas, they not only can but do," replied his father.