Paul and the Printing Press Part 8

CHAPTER IV

ANOTHER ALLY

Mr. Cameron was as good as his word.

The next morning when Paul appeared at breakfast, he was greeted with the words: "Well, I won Damon over. You're to go around there this evening and he'll have a paper ready for you to the effect that in consideration of the _Echo_ printing the _March Hare_, the judge will write for the _Echo_ six articles on the pros and cons of The League of Nations. You are to get Carter to sign this agreement and then we'll lock it up in my strong box at the bank."

"That's bully, Dad. It was mighty good of you to take this trouble for us."

"That's all right, son. I'm always glad to help you boys out. Besides,"

he added whimsically, "I am not entirely philanthropic. The thing amuses me. I always enjoy beating Carter when I get the chance."

Paul regarded his father affectionately. The big man seemed very human just at that moment,--little more, in fact, than a boy like himself.

"Then, as I understand it, all we fellows have to do now is to round up the ten ads.," he said, dropping into his chair at the table and vigorously attacking his grape-fruit.

"What ads. are you talking about, Paul?" asked his mother, who had just entered the room.

"Oh, we boys down at school want to get some ads. to help publish our new paper."

Mrs. Cameron listened while the plans of the _March Hare_ were unfolded to her.

"Hill and Holden, the Garden Street grocers, are going to put a new coffee on the market; their man told me about it yesterday and said they were going to advertise it very extensively."

"There's your chance, Paul!" cried Mr. Cameron. "Call them up this minute and nail them before they send the advertis.e.m.e.nt to the papers.

We're customers of theirs and without doubt they'd just as soon send their announcement to the _Echo_ through you. Tell them they will be doing a service to the High School pupils, most of whose families' names are on their books."

Paul needed no second bidding. He sprang to the telephone. A few instants later he re-entered the room with sparkling eyes.

"O. K.!" he said. "I talked with one of the firm who said they would be glad to help us out. They'll prepare the ad. and let me have it to-morrow. They want a quarter of a page."

"They do? Well, well, Paul! That should net the _Echo_ something," Mr.

Cameron remarked. "If all the boys' mothers help them as yours has, your _March Hare_ will be a certainty by to-morrow."

"You were a brick, Mater."

"I just happened to recall hearing the man speak of it," returned Mrs.

Cameron.

Nevertheless it was quite evident that she was pleased to aid her boy.

"You don't remember happening to hear any one else mention advertising, do you, my dear?" asked her husband.

"I'm afraid not," was his wife's laughing reply.

"Don't tease Mater, Dad," said Paul. "She's done her bit. May the others do as well."

Rising from breakfast, he bent and kissed his mother affectionately.

"I'm off to school!" he called. "I shall put this advertising stunt up to the business manager. He's got to expect to have something to do."

"That's right, Paul," returned Mr. Cameron approvingly. "The clever business man is the one who organizes his affairs and then throws at least a part of the responsibility of carrying them out on the men in his employ. n.o.body is ever interested in an undertaking in which he has no part. Share your work with the other fellow if you want to get the best out of him. Put it on his shoulders and make him feel that you expect him to do it--that you trust him to do it. He'll do ten times as much for you and he will pull with you--not against you. We're all human and like to be important. Remember that in handling men. It is one of the great secrets of success. Now off with you! You'll be late if you stand here philosophizing."

Away scampered Paul. A moment later his wheel was crunching over the blue gravel of the driveway and speeding down the macadam road. Soon he was in the cla.s.sroom.

Excitement ran high that morning. What Caesar did in Gaul, what Cyrus and the Silician Queen had to say to one another was of far less import to the agitated students than what the Cla.s.s of 1920 did that day in Burmingham. Nevertheless the recitations dragged on somehow and by and by the geometries, Roman histories, and the peregrinations of Cyrus were tucked into the desks, and the staff of the _March Hare_ got together for a hurried business meeting in the corridor.

The boys were enthusiastic that Paul had found a printer.

"Hurrah for you, Kipper!" they shouted.

"Good work, old man!"

"Leave it to Kip!" they cried in chorus.

"You'll have to get the ads.," announced Paul. "I've secured one. I leave the rest of them to you."

"Right-o! We'll 'tend to them," piped Donald Hall with a.s.surance.

"My father's firm has never advertised," declared Dave Chandler. "I'll put it up to Pater when I get home."

"My uncle will help us out; I bet he will," promised Oscar Hamilton.

"Robey and Hamilton, you know."

"The more the merrier," responded Paul gayly. "Just call me up this evening and tell me what luck you've had."

"Sure, old fellow! We'll do that!" came from the boys as they dispersed.

The remainder of the morning Paul mingled fragments of chemistry and Greek with visions of the _March Hare_, and the moment school was out he dashed home to complete his studying and get it out of the way that he might be free to go to see Judge Damon directly after dinner.

Despite the dignity of his profession the judge was a much less formidable person to face than Mr. Arthur Presby Carter. He was a simple, kindly man, with an ingratiating smile and a keen sympathy with human nature. He was, moreover, very fond of young people. He liked all boys, seeming never to forget the fact that he himself had been one of them not so many years ago.

Therefore, no sooner had Paul presented himself at the front door than he was shown into the study where, before a bright fire blazing on the hearth, the judge sat smoking.

"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," a.s.serted 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."