Arthur Weldon laughed.

“In that case, sir,” said he, “I can make no further protest.  But I predict you will find the bills—­eh—­eh—­entirely satisfactory.”

“You mentioned an office, just now, Uncle,” observed Louise.  “Must we have a business office?”

“To be sure,” Mr. Merrick replied.  “We must find a proper location, where we can install the presses and all the type and machinery that go to making up a newspaper.  I hadn’t thought of this before, but it is a serious matter, my dears.  We may have to build a place.”

“Oh, that would take too long, entirely,” said Patsy.  “Can’t we put it in the barn, Uncle?”

“What would happen to the horses and cows?  No; we’ll take a look over Millville and see what we can find there.”

“You won’t find much,” predicted Beth.  “I can’t think of a single unoccupied building in the town.”

“Then we’ll put it in a tent,” declared Patsy.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” advised Uncle John.  “Wait till we’ve gone over the ground together.  Our truck will require a pretty big place, for Marvin said one freight car wouldn’t hold all the outfit.  He’s going to send two cars, anyhow.”

“Have him fill up the second with print paper,” proposed Arthur.

“Ah; that’s another thing I hadn’t thought of,” said Mr. Merrick.  “How big a daily edition will you print, Patsy?”

“Let’s see,” pondered the girl.  “There are about two hundred at Royal, say four hundred at Huntingdon, at Millville about—­about—­”

“Say fifteen,” said Uncle John; “that’s six hundred and fifteen, and—­”

“And the farmers, of course.  There must be at least a hundred and fifty of ’em in the county, so that makes seven hundred and seventy-five copies a day.”

“Wait a moment!” cried Arthur, somewhat bewildered by this figuring.  “Do you suppose every inhabitant—­man, woman and child—­will subscribe for your paper?”

Patsy blushed.

“Why, no, of course not,” she acknowledged frankly.  “How many do you think will subscribe, Arthur?  Remember, it’s to be a great newspaper.”

“Four pages of six columns each.  Plenty big enough for Millville,” he said, thoughtfully.  “My advice, girls, is to print a first edition of about four hundred copies and distribute the papers free in every house within a radius of five or six miles from Millville.  These will be samples, and after the people have had a chance to read them you can ask them to subscribe.  By the way, what will you charge for subscription?”

“How much, Uncle?” asked Patsy, appealingly.

“A penny paper is the most popular,” he said, regarding her with merry, twinkling eyes.  “Say thirty cents a month, or three-fifty a year.  That’s as much as these poor people can stand.”

“I think so too,” replied the girl, seriously.

“But it seems to me a penny paper isn’t dignified,” pouted Louise.  “I had intended to print all my poems in it, and I’m sure that ought to make it worth at least five cents a copy.”