which they were sowing so
lavishly upon the outgoing waters should return in good brown loaves.
Indeed, these were likely to be needed presently, for they were
economizing at every point, and the dairy lunch and cheap table-d'hote
places served most frequently their needs. There were no more
go-as-you-please dinners, and those of the past were remembered with
fondness and referred to with respect.

It may have been that this system of diet resulted in clearer mental
vision, or it may have been that Perner's early business training really
manifested itself feebly at last, and set him to thinking logically.
Whatever it was, he suddenly came out of his den into the studio, one
afternoon, looking rather pale and startled. He had been through a hard
day with printers and engravers, as well as voracious collectors, whose
bills had an almost universal habit of error on the wrong side. The
others knew the conditions and did not suspect anything unusual when he
flung himself down on the Turkish couch and stared up at the skylight.
Then at last he said:

"Boys, it's a failure. It won't work!"

The others looked around quickly.

"What is it? What's a failure?" They spoke together.

"The 'cash for names'; it's a fallacy."

"How? Why? Won't they do it?" This from Van Dorn.

"Oh, yes; _they_ may, and will, probably; but _we_ won't!"

"Oh, pshaw! Perny, what are you talking about?"

Van Dorn was becoming a little impatient--it was his scheme. Perner rose
to a sitting position on the couch.

"Why, look!" said he. "We send the paper free for two weeks to each of
the twenty names sent by each subscriber. That's forty papers free for
every subscriber that comes."

"Of course," admitted Livingstone; "but some of those twenty names--most
of them--will subscribe."

"Certainly; and each one that does so will send twenty more names, which
means forty more free papers--forty papers besides the fifty-two they
are to receive afterward, or ninety-two papers in all. Ninety-two
papers will cost us, mailed, something like seventy-five cents; the
premium will cost us at least fifty cents more, even where we charge for
postage and packing. Then there is the twenty-five cents cash we pay to
the sender of names. Total, one dollar and fifty cents outlay, for which
we receive one dollar cash in return."

Perner looked steadily first at Livingstone, then at Van Dorn. Neither
of them answered for a moment, and both became a trifle grave. The