"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 quant.i.ty 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.
CHAPTER VIII
AUNT SELINA"S CIVIL WAR STORY
The children thoroughly enjoyed their refreshments. Aunt Selina did not care for any, so she sat smiling as she watched them.
"As long as Flutey isn"t busy, wouldn"t it be nice to have her tell us a teeny-weeny bit of that war story?" ventured Dot Starr.
"Oh, yes! Please do! Flutey, do tell!" came from various directions.
"Why, that would be lovely, Aunt Selina, if you will," added Mrs.
Talmage.
Thus besieged, Aunt Selina decided to yield to the children.
"Let me see," she began. "I must have been about eighteen when my dearest friend, Rebecca Crudup, invited me to spend Easter Holidays at her Southern home. We had been chums from the moment we met at Miss Wyland"s Seminary for Young Ladies, and the Christmas before the time I just mentioned, Rebecca had visited my home at Happy Hills. Mother liked Rebecca immensely, but she feared the fighting in the South might create trouble for me if I went with Becky. We rea.s.sured her, however, and an unwilling consent was written from home.
"A week before the vacation began, Becky received a letter asking her to start home as soon as she received the word, as important matters in the family had to be looked after.
"As this would give us an extra week"s holiday we hailed the letter with joy. The girls stood about enviously watching us pack our carpetbags and Rebecca"s trunk. I packed many of my things in her trunk to save the trouble of transporting two to Tennessee. We left the next morning "midst shouts reminding us to be sure to be on hand when school re-opened.
"We enjoyed the journey during the first part of the way, but, as the train sped on, the country showed signs of the desolation wrought by war, and we sobered from our happy laughter to serious contemplation.
"The nearer to Nashville that we came, the deeper the evidence that war was an awful thing. We saw burned homes, devastated land and forlorn-looking families as we pa.s.sed by.
"Rebecca"s father met us at the station in Nashville and welcomed me with a surprised manner. Turning to his daughter, he spoke in a serious tone.
""We will endeavor to give your friend an enjoyable visit, daughter, but it doesn"t seem promisin". Evidently you did not receive our telegram?"
""Only this letter, father," replied Becky, showing him the last letter received by her.
""Hum! well, we will live up to our reputation, Miss Selina, and be the true Southern hosts."
"As we came out of the station and walked toward the carriage-posts, Rebecca looked about for the family equipage.
"Mr. Crudup led us toward a great spring wagon which was drawn by two raw-boned farm horses. An old darky sat on the front seat.
""Why, father! Surely we are not going home in _this_!" cried Rebecca with deep chagrin.
""Sorry, daughter, but it must be so," returned her father in a grieved voice. "You will find many changes here since the fightin" began."
""Selina, I"m awful sorry you have to ride this way, and I can"t understand why it is. Father seems to know," said Becky, in an apologetic tone.
""I don"t mind, Becky. Really and truly, I don"t. I love the country so, that I would just as soon ride a plow if we had to, to get to your home."