Paul gave a low whistle.
"That's all very well, sir," he laughed. "But where am I to get the fifty or sixty bones to pay for it?"
"I don't know, my boy. That's up to you. Doesn't your business manager provide you with a typewriter?"
"Not on your life!" replied Paul. "Much as ever I can wring enough money out of him to cover my incidental expenses. No, the paper isn't fitting up offices for its hard-working staff. If I get a typewriter it must be my own venture."
"You would always find such a machine useful," returned his father slowly. "It would not be money thrown away."
Paul glanced down thoughtfully.
"I've half a mind to save up and get one," he said suddenly. "I could put my war-saving stamps into it," he added.
"So you could."
"I have nearly twenty-five dollars' worth of them already."
"Oh, that's fine! I had no idea you had been so thrifty." Mr. Cameron looked pleased.