The Pulaskian., 1921-12-08
PART i--continued.

 steps, placing his hands behind him. Listen, here," he said, ''you think we got time to read a lot O writin' ill your ole handwritin' that nobody can read anyhow, and then go to work and toll and moil to print it on the printin' press2 I guess we got work enough printin' what we wrote for our news paper our own selves My goodness, Florence, told you this isn't any child's playP'
 Florence appeared to be somewhat baffled Well" she said. Well, you better put this poem in your ole news paper if you want to have anyhow one thing in it that won't make everybody sick that reads it.'
 T won't do itr" Herbert said, more firmly.
 "What you take us for?' his partner added, convincingly.
 "All right, then" Florence respond ed, with apparent decisiveness. I'll go back and tell Uncle Joseph and he'll take this printing press back
 He will not take it back. already did tell him how you keep pokin' around tryin' to run everything, and we just worried our lifes out tryin to keep you away. He said he bet it was Q hard job; that's what Uncle Joseph said. So go on, tell him anything you want to. You don't get yor ole poem in our newspaper !"
 Not if she lived to be two hundred years old!n Henry Rooter added. Then he had an afterthought. Not unless she pays for it.'
 How do you mean?' Herbert asked, puzzled.
 Henry's brow had become corrugat- ed with no little professional impress siyeness. You know what we were talkin' about this morning." he said. "How the right way to run our news paper, we ought to have some adver- tisements in it and everything. Well, we want money, don't we? We could put this poem in our newspaper like an advertisement; that is, if Florence has got any money, we could"
 Herbert drowned. If her ole poem isn't too long. guess we could. Here, let's see it, Florence" And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he studied the dimensions of the poem, though without paining himself to read 1t. Well, I guess, maybe we can do it." he said. "How much ought we to charge her?"
 This question plunged Henry Rooter into a state of calculation, while Flor ence observed him with yelled anxi- ety; bat after q time he looked up, his brow showing continued strain. Do you keep a bank, Florenee-for nickels and dimes and maybe quar- ters, yol know?" he inquired.
 It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. "No, she don't" he said.
 Not since I was about seven years old !" Florence added sharply, though with dignity. "Do you still make mud pies in your back yard, pray?"
 "Now, see here!'' Henry objected "Try and be a lady anyway for few minutes. can't you? l got to figure out how much we got to charge you for your ole poem, don't F"
 "WeI, then" Florence returned, "you better ask me somep'm about that, hadn't you?'
 Well" said Henry Rooter, have you got any money at home?"
 No, I haven't"
 "Have you got any ~soney with youe"
 "Yes, I have"
 "How much is itf"
 .I won't tell you"
 Henry drowned. q guess we ought to make her pay about two dollars and n half" he said, turning to his part ner.
 Herbert felt deferential; it seemed to him that he had formed a business association with a genius, and for a moment he was dazzled then he re- membered FIorences financial capac- ities, always well known to him, and he looked depressed. Florence, her self, looked indignant.
 1.-TWO dollars and a half!' she cried. "Why, I could buy this whole place for two dollars and half, printing press. railing, and alI-yes, and you thrown in, Mister Henry Rooter." '"