“There! my page is all done!” exclaimed Ruth, holding a sheet of paper away to admire the neatly written notes for “Household Hints.”

“Mine’s done, too, but I’m going to copy it over to-night to make it look neat as a pin,” said Norma.

“Did you get any new candy recipes?” asked Dot eagerly.

The little Blue Bird who took charge of the “Candy Kettle” smacked her lips emphatically.

“I haven’t started to ink the pencil lines of my cut-out paper furniture, but that won’t take long,” explained Dot. “I started with the kitchen because Mumzie said no good housekeeper would furnish a parlor if she had no kitchen equipment.”

“I did my drawing lesson, but I haven’t written the lesson telling the children how to make the picture,” said Betty, with a worried look toward Mrs. Talmage.

“Plenty of time, dear,” soothed Mrs. Talmage. “You know Uncle Ben said we would have until the tenth of the month.”

The Blue Birds were gathered in the cherry-tree Nest after school, one day, waiting for the signal from the Publishing House which would tell them they might run over and inspect the huge pieces of machinery that had arrived that day from New York. Ike and Simon had to help the three truckmen as they placed rollers under the press and rolled it from the truck and into the room. The stitcher, cutter and other pieces were not so unwieldy to move and place. At noon, Ned saw the men struggling with the press and so refrained from going near the house, but he told the other Bobolinks, and immediately after school was dismissed a crowd of boys ran to their shop.

The Blue Birds had been enjoined to keep out of the way while the boys cleared things up and investigated the various pieces of machinery. It was a strain on their patience, however, to remain in their Nest and listen to the laughs, exultant shouts, and sounds of satisfaction coming from the carriage house.

All things have an end, so Uncle Ben soon appeared at the wide doorway of the Publishing House and gave a shrill whistle for the Blue Birds. Instantly, seven little girls took flight down the steps and across the lawn, leaving Mrs. Talmage to assist Aunt Selina.

The Blue Birds ran in and looked about. The great, ugly, black machines with wheels, rollers and arms everywhere, did not impress them very favorably.

“Can’t make head or tail of the thing!” scorned Dot.

“No one expects a girl to understand,” replied her brother Don.

“I would be afraid of that dreadful looking knife!” shuddered Betty, standing at a safe distance and pointing to the wide blade of the paper cutter.

Then the children crowded about the stitcher while Uncle Ben showed the wonderful work the machine did.

The electric attachments had not yet been completed, so the demonstration of the machines had to be by gestures. But Uncle Ben was equal to it, and the children felt that they could almost see the machines running as they listened to his explanations.

“Well, Uncle Ben, I don’t see how we can start this work without you superintending us,” ventured Meredith.

“It all seemed simple enough when we were talking about printing a magazine, but this job is more than I can do,” admitted Jinks.

“I am at home with my little press, Uncle Ben, but these big fellows make me want to run away from the contract we made with you,” added Ned, seriously.

The Blue Birds and younger Bobolinks heard the older boys with anxious concern lest the entire plan should fail.

“I thought of just such a contingency and provided for it,” replied Uncle Ben, with his optimistic manner. “I realize that you all go to school and afternoons after school do not give you much time to experiment on these machines, so I found two young men who used to do good work for us who were pleased to come out here for a few weeks and show you boys how to do things. They won’t come until the galley proofs arrive, but then, they will help you get out the first issue and teach you everything there is to know about these machines. They will take them all apart and teach you how to put them together again. A machine is like a man’s valuable animal if you pay no attention to its welfare, it does not last long enough to pay you for its keep.”

“We’ll look after our machinery all right, Uncle Ben,” agreed Ned, with the look of the workman who truly loves his tools.

“I’m sure you will, and I hope the Blue Birds will have as much pride in turning out commendable articles for us to print,” added Uncle Ben, looking at Mrs. Talmage.

“Oh, Uncle Ben, there’s one question I want to ask may we each sign our own name to our page or must we make up a pretend name?” asked Ruth.

“Why, sign your very own name, of course; that is one way of making you keep up to the mark. If you only had a pretend name on your page you might get careless and say, ’Oh, no one knows who it is, anyway, so I don’t care if this story isn’t as good as it ought to be.’”

Mrs. Talmage and Aunt Selina smiled, for they could see the wisdom of the remark.

“I guess my father will be proud to see my name in a magazine,” boasted Dot Starr.

“All depends on what you tack your name to, Dot,” laughed Meredith.

“It’ll be fine, all right!” exclaimed Dot, nodding her head emphatically.

“Shall we have our names at the top or at the bottom of the pages, Ben?” asked Mrs. Talmage.

“Oh, please, Uncle Ben, do put them at the top! I am afraid no one will stop to read our names if you have them at the bottom,” worried little Betty.

Everyone laughed, but Uncle Ben assured her that the name would be placed directly under the name of the article.

Then, while the Blue Birds watched the boys placing type in the cases, Uncle Ben sat down beside Mrs. Talmage and had a quiet talk about affairs in general.

In concluding he said, “Now don’t you worry if the children should neglect a page now and then, for I can turn in heaps of good stories and articles any time we may need them.”

“Oh, these children are so reliable that they would rather do without food or sleep than neglect anything that promises funds for next summer’s farms,” returned Mrs. Talmage.

“Glad to hear it, and hope they keep it up. Now, what pages have you provided for each month and have you any to spare for some prominent writers who are friends of mine and feel deeply interested in this venture?” asked Uncle Ben.

“Oh, yes!” replied Mrs. Talmage. “We have seven pages taken by the Blue Birds and four by the Bobolinks. Then there is a story Aunt Selina has been thinking of writing, and a page for music that her friend in New York will contribute. Mrs. Catlin promised to give us some tale of adventure each month and that will take two pages. So, let me see that takes up, in all, sixteen pages. How many pages shall we have in the magazine?”

“About forty-eight is the usual size for such a paper,” replied Uncle Ben, figuring out Mrs. Talmage’s number of pages and making a memorandum of the balance remaining for use.

“Gracious! then we will have to find much more manuscript than I thought,” worried Mrs Talmage.

“No, I do not think so that is what I want to find out to-day. A very good friend of mine who had charge of Field’s Museum for four years, so heartily endorsed this plan that he offered to supply a page article on plant life each month. His name alone is valuable to a paper, and it will certainly give weight to our magazine. Then, besides him, a very close friend, who has been connected with a prominent book concern for more than twenty years, called me up to say that this idea was just what he has been hoping for. Both he and his wife are eager to assist in some way. I suggested that they supply a page on bird life and give us some valuable hints about our feathered friends. This man has published numerous books on the subject of birds and is just the one to speak with authority. The moment I mentioned it, he accepted my invitation; so we have two renowned writers for most interesting and instructive pages each month,” said Uncle Ben.

“Why, how wonderful!” exclaimed Aunt Selina, who had been silent during the conversation. “I don’t see how you ever accomplish such miracles!”

Mrs. Talmage looked at Uncle Ben and said, laughingly, “Maybe it’s because we never take ‘no’ for an answer. We keep at an idea until it is hammered into everyone’s heart and mind.”

“And the moment our friends have it well hammered in they get so interested in succeeding that others are sought by them and the same story hammered into another head and heart,” added Uncle Ben.

“Well, I’m hammered and rooted in the work, and am anxious to have friends in it, too. Is that the way you do?” asked Aunt Selina.

“That’s just it! and before anyone else knows what’s going on, dozens of folks are working on the same idea,” replied Mrs. Talmage.

“Mary said something about a story that you wished to contribute, Aunt Selina what is it?” asked Uncle Ben.

“An experience I had in the Civil War when I was visiting my old school chum, Rebecca Crudup. You have never heard any of my tales of that visit, but I assure you they are exciting.”

“And you were there! Why, Aunt Selina, your manuscript would be valuable to any magazine! I wish you would let me read it before you turn it over to the Blue Birds,” said Uncle Ben eagerly, the business instinct for new material for his magazine pushing the Blue Birds’ magazine into the background.

“You may see it after it is published in the children’s paper,” quietly replied Aunt Selina.

Uncle Ben took the rebuke in the right spirit, and said, “Is your friend alive to-day?”

“She was until last year, but her daughter is the musician I wish to get ‘rooted’ in this work for a music page. I haven’t her studio address, or I would have written to her about this.”

“Give me her name and the last address you knew of, and I will locate her as soon as I get back to the city,” offered Uncle Ben.

Uncle Ben wrote the name and late address in a book then turned to the ladies with a suggestion.

“Aunt Selina’s story will surely take more than the two pages you spoke of, so why not make a serial story of her Civil War experience?”

“Splendid! That is just the thing,” cried Mrs. Talmage.

“I could make it as long as you wanted it to run, for Rebecca visited me after the war and told me plenty of her wild adventures after I returned home from the South. Why, my coachman, Abe, was one of the Crudup slaves. He says they all stuck close to the family, for they loved them and wanted to remain, but Mr. Crudup lost most of his wealth in the war and had no place or means for so many servants,” related Miss Selina.

The children had made a thorough inspection of the machinery and type by this time and had joined the grown-ups.

“What was that you were telling mother, Aunt Selina?” asked Ned, who overheard the word “war” and was interested.

“Why, we just discovered that Aunt Selina had a very exciting time in the South during the Civil War and she is going to write it up for your magazine,” explained Uncle Ben.

“Oh, goody, goody!” exclaimed a chorus of voices.

“It’s strange that you never told us any of those stories, Aunt Selina,” ventured Mrs. Talmage.

“Oh, it all happened so long ago, dearie, that I never thought anyone would be interested. Besides, it turns to a page of my life that I always wanted to keep closed,” sighed Aunt Selina.

The others, respecting her reticence, changed the subject. Uncle Ben smiled at her and made a comforting remark.

“Aunt Selina, when we finish our first year’s work I am going to write a most interesting treatise and call it, ’Aunt Selina’s Recipes for Youth.’”

“What do you mean?” she questioned.

“Just what I said,” replied he, laughing. “Since you have taken an interest in this work you have grown years and years younger in looks and actions.”

“Ben, you’re making fun of me!” declared Aunt Selina.

“No, he’s not, Aunt Selina; you really are looking fine,” said Mrs. Talmage.

“Aunt Selina, isn’t that what I prescribed for you at Happy Hills?” cried Ruth, exultantly.

“Yes, Fluffy, you did, and all the glory of this old conquest belongs to you,” admitted Aunt Selina, patting the little girl upon the head.

Just then, an expressman drove up and spoke to Ike.

“Right to the front door that is the B. B. & B. B. Publishing Company’s shop,” replied Ike with pride.

Uncle Ben signed for the safe delivery of a large flat box and the children crowded about to watch Ned and Jinks open it.

The box was marked “Glass” and “Handle with Care,” so Ruth ran over to her uncle to inquire about it.

“Do you know what is in it?” asked she.

“I believe it is the box that failed to arrive with the other things,” he replied, smiling.

“Do tell what it is,” persisted Ruth.

“Why? You’ll soon see, and it would spoil the surprise if I told you,” said Uncle Ben.

Ruth skipped back to the circle formed about the case watching Ned take out the nails very carefully. Soon Jinks and he had the top boards off and then started to lift out the excelsior. This disposed of, a flat paper parcel was seen. Ned lifted it out, and seeing another one underneath, Jinks took it out also. Meredith and Don looked to see if there were any more, but excelsior seemed to fill the bottom of the box.

“Who has a knife?” asked Ned, not finding his own in his pocket.

“Here, here! hurry up and cut the twine!” shouted Don.

Ned took Don’s knife with the broken blade and rusty handle, and smiled as he hacked away at the twine. After several vigorous efforts the string parted and several hands hurried to tear off the heavy paper.

A large picture of Benjamin Franklin, in a heavy oak frame, came out from its wrappings.

“Oh, isn’t that fine!” cried several voices.

“Just our man, isn’t he?” laughed Ned, pleased as could be.

“If I had a head like that I could invent machines, too,” grumbled Don, feeling of his round little head in disgust.

While the others laughed at the remark, Meredith turned to the other parcel which Jinks held on the floor. The twine was soon cut and the papers taken off to reveal the strong features of Abraham Lincoln.

“Ho, that’s best yet!” cried the boys who felt a deep admiration for the man whose picture stood before them.

Mr. Talmage and Mrs. Catlin came in during the exhibition of pictures, and the former said, “Just what you needed to complete the office appearance.”

“Yes, indeed, Uncle Ben, and we thank you heaps and heaps!” exclaimed Ned, carrying his picture into the office.

Jinks followed and Don started to drag away the box that stood in the midst of the circle of children.

“Better see if there are any more!” called Uncle Ben, warningly.

Don dropped upon his knees and sought in the excelsior.

“Oh! here’s some more and I almost threw them away!” he cried, as he dragged forth several small packages.

Upon being opened they proved to be a number of pictures of famous publishers and inventors of printing machinery.

“Won’t they look just great, though!” came from several pleased boys.

“Why, come to think of it,” said Mrs. Catlin, “my husband has a number of fine plates of machines and things of that kind. He was connected with the Vivla Machine Company, you know, and they manufactured presses and printers’ tools. They might look well if added to this collection.”

Everyone agreed that the more the better, and then Dot remembered that Mrs. Catlin had not seen the office and machinery.

“Walk right over and see how officey our office looks with your desk and table,” she cried.

“And Mrs. Talmage sent in the chairs,” added Betty.

“And my mother sent the carpet,” added Norma, pointing to the green rug.

“And father says we may have his typewriting machine and table here when he’s away from home,” said Ruth, eagerly.

Mrs. Catlin praised the arrangement, and then asked to be shown the wonderful machinery that was to do such great work.

“Dear me, I heartily regret that I am not a little girl so that I might glory in this office and work,” sighed Mrs. Catlin, coming back to the grown-ups.

“You don’t have to be ‘little,’ Therese,” laughed Mrs. Talmage. “You are one of this juvenile club as surely as if you were but ten. Why, you couldn’t pass the place without coming in to ask for news.”

“To tell the truth, I was going to the village, but I heard the happy shouts away out on the road and so I just wanted to know the cause,” confessed Mrs. Catlin, smiling.

“I hope I may live a few years longer to see the results of this work,” sighed Aunt Selina.

“You will, Flutey, you will!” cried Dot, enthusiastically. “What Uncle Ben told you was really truly true!”

“And just think, Mrs. Catlin, Flutey is going to write a long serious story for our magazine all about the war that she was in!” cried Betty Stevens.

The grown-ups smiled at Betty’s idea of a “serial” story, but Mrs. Catlin looked surprised.

“Why, I never knew you were from the South?”

“I’m not, but I was visiting there during an exciting time, and Ben thinks my experience will make a readable story,” replied Aunt Selina.

Mrs. Catlin looked at the aged lady with interest and said how much she would like to hear the tale. Suddenly, however, she slapped her gloved hands together and spoke.

“Now, what reason is there that I should not have some pages in this magazine?” she asked.

“Show us any good reason for taking our space and you may have it,” teased Mrs. Talmage.

“Then put me down for another serial. I have a collection of short stories that Mr. Catlin wrote of his adventures in Alaska. It does not seem much like an adventure to go to Alaska nowadays, but forty years ago it was as if one were leaving this hemisphere for the unknown. Some of his tales are intensely interesting,” said Mrs. Catlin.

“Why, friends, we are getting so many notable articles and writers together that we will soon have to raise the subscription price,” laughed Mr. Talmage.

“That reminds me that we never thought of a charge. We ought to decide what subscription price we wish to ask,” said Uncle Ben.

“Has anyone thought of that?” asked Mrs. Talmage, looking about at Blue Birds and Bobolinks.

Heads were shaken and Ned asked, “How can we tell how much to charge until we know what the magazine will cost?”

“I can help you figure that out, I think,” offered Uncle Ben, sitting down at the table and taking paper and pencil from the drawer.

“Figure how much five hundred or say, a thousand will cost,” ventured Ned.

“A thousand! Where will you send them?” cried Jinks.

“I should say, figure on five thousand or ten,” said Uncle Ben, quietly.

“What!” gasped several boys.

“Yes, because ten thousand will not cost much more than three hundred.”

“How’s that?” asked the boys.

“Plates, linotype, lock-up, make-ready, will cost as much for one magazine as for one thousand. The only extra cost in getting out a quantity is in paper, ink and time. Now, I firmly believe that we will be able to send out ten thousand by the time you have them ready.”

“Well, Uncle Ben, it sounds awful big to us, particularly as we haven’t one single subscription, yet,” said Ruth.

“Here here, Fluff, don’t let that bother you!” said Mr. Talmage, throwing a five-dollar bill upon the table.

“And here’s for ten more!” laughed Aunt Selina, taking a twenty-dollar bill from her purse.

“Here’s for five orphan asylums,” added Mrs. Catlin placing a ten-dollar note on the table.

“How now, Fluff where are your blues, eh?” teased Uncle Ben.

The children saw the crisp notes lying on the table and felt the joy of a successful start.

“From what Aunt Selina and Mrs. Talmage offered, it looks as if the price should be two dollars per year. Now, let us figure out how close we come to that,” said Uncle Ben.

After counting up cost of production plus cost of mailing, it was decided that two dollars would be a just price, but there would be little profit unless more money could be gotten for advertising, or some saving made.

“Guess we’ve about completed our business for to-day,” ventured Uncle Ben, as he noticed the children growing restless.

“Yes, let us go to the house and have some nice cool lemonade and cookies,” suggested Mr. Talmage.

Eager looks turned toward Mrs. Talmage, and she laughed.

“We’re always ready for something good to eat, father, so you show us the way to the picnic.”

It took but a few moments for the children to reach the wide veranda and settle down comfortably until the maids brought out the refreshments.

“A day’s work always ought to finish like this,” mused Don, munching a delicious piece of cake.