“Don’t you see?” asked Patsy.  “Both Uncle John and that tramp we encountered have met on common ground to bewail the lack of a daily newspaper ’in our midst’—­to speak in journalistic parlance.  At the paper mill at Royal are over two hundred workmen moaning in despair while they lose all track of the world’s progress.  At Huntingdon, not five miles distant, are four or five hundred people lacking all the educational advantages of an up-to-date—­or is ‘down-to-date’ proper?—­press.  And Millville—­good gracious!  What would sleepy Millville folks think of having a bright, newsy, metropolitan newspaper left on their doorsteps every morning, or evening, as the case may be?”

“H-m,” said Uncle John; “I scent a social revolution in the wilds of Chazy County.”

“Let’s start it right away!” cried Patsy.  “The ‘Millville Tribune.’  What do you say, girls?”

“Why ‘Tribune?’” asked Louise.

“Because we three will run it, and we’re a triumvirate—­the future tribunal of the people in this district.”

“Very good!” said Uncle John, nodding approval.  “A clever idea, Patsy.”

“But it’s all nonsense, sir,” observed Arthur Weldon, in astonishment.  “Have you any idea of the details of this thing you are proposing?”

“None whatever,” said the little millionaire.  “That’s the beauty of the scheme, Arthur; it may lead us into a reg’lar complicated mix-up, and the joy of getting untangled ought to repay us for all our bother.”

“Perhaps so—­if you ever untangle,” said the young man, smiling at the whimsical speech.  Then he turned to his young bride.  “Do you want to go into this thing, Louise?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” she promptly replied.  “It’s the biggest thing in the way of a sensation that Patsy’s crazy brain has ever evolved, and I’ll stand by the Millville Tribune to the last.  You mustn’t forget, Arthur, that I shall be able to publish all my verses and stories, which the Century and Harpers’ so heartlessly turned down.”

“And Beth?”

“Oh, I’m in it too,” declared Beth.  “There’s something so delightfully mysterious and bewildering in the idea of our editing and printing a daily paper here in Millville that I can hardly wait to begin the experiment.”

“It’s no experiment whatever,” asserted Patsy boldly.  “The daily newspaper is an established factor in civilization, and ’whatever man has done, man can do’—­an adage that applies equally to girls.”

“Have you any notion of the cost of an outfit such as is required to print a modern daily?” asked Arthur.

“Oh, two or three hundred, perhaps, but—­”

“You’re crazy, child!  That wouldn’t buy the type.”

“Nevertheless,” began Patsy, argumentatively, but her uncle stopped her.

“You needn’t figure on that,” he said hastily.  “The outfit shall be my contribution to the enterprise.  If you girls say you’re anxious and willing to run a newspaper, I’ll agree to give you a proper start.”