“What is your difficulty?”

“The want of money.”

“How much do you need?”

“Eight hundred dollars.”

“Is that all the price such a paper commands?”

“No.  The price is two thousand dollars; but Ferguson and I can raise twelve hundred between us.”

“Do you consider it good property?”

“Mr. Anderson made a comfortable living out of it, besides paying for office work.  We should have this advantage, that we should be our own compositors.”

“That would give you considerable to do, if you were editor also.”

“I shouldn’t mind,” said Harry, “if I only had a paper of my own.  I think I should be willing to work night and day.”

“What are your chances of raising the sum you need?”

“Very small.  Ferguson has gone out at this moment to see if he can find any one willing to lend; but we don’t expect success.”

“Why don’t you apply to me?” asked the professor.

“I didn’t know if you had the money to spare.”

“I might conjure up some.  Presto!—­change!—­you know.  We professors of magic can find money anywhere.”

“But you need some to work with.  I have been behind the scenes,” said Harry, smiling.

“But you don’t know all my secrets, for all that.  In sober earnest, I haven’t been practising magic these twenty-five years for nothing.  I can lend you the money you want, and I will.”

Harry seized his hand, and shook it with delight.

“How can I express my gratitude?” he said.

“By sending me your paper gratis, and paying me seven per cent. interest on my money.”

“Agreed.  Anything more?”

“Yes.  I am to give an exhibition in the village to-morrow night.  You must give me a good puff.”

“With the greatest pleasure.  I’ll write it now.”

“Before it takes place?  I see you are following the example of some of the city dailies.”

“And I’ll print you some handbills for nothing.”

“Good.  When do you want the money?  Will next week do?”

“Yes.  Mr. Anderson won’t expect the money before.”

Here Ferguson entered the efface.  Harry made a signal of silence to the professor, whom he introduced.  Then he said:—­

“Well, Ferguson, what luck?”

“None at all,” answered his fellow-compositor, evidently dispirited.  “Nobody seems to have any money.  We shall have to give up our plan.”

“I don’t mean to give it up.”

“Then perhaps you’ll tell me where to find the money.”

“I will.”

“You don’t mean to say—­” began Ferguson, eagerly.

“Yes, I do.  I mean to say that the money is found.”

“Where?”

“Prof.  Henderson has agreed to let us have it.”

“Is that true?” said Ferguson, bewildered.

“I believe so,” said the professor, smiling.  “Harry has juggled the money out of me,—­you know he used to be in the business,—­and you can make your bargain as soon as you like.”