couldn't hurt nuthin' if he tried."

The door opened again and Mr. Merrick protruded a puzzled countenance.

"He wants to know about a stereotype plant, Patsy. What'll I tell him?"

Patsy stared. Louise and Beth shook their heads.

"If it belongs to the--the thing we want, Uncle, have 'em send it
along," said Patsy in desperation.

"All right."

A few minutes later the little man again appealed to them.

"How'll we run the thing, girls; steam or electricity?"

Patsy's face was a blank. Beth giggled and Louise frowned.

"Of course it'll have to be run," suggested Mr. Merrick; "but how?
That's the question."

"I--I hadn't given that matter thought," admitted Patsy. "What do you
think, Uncle?"

He considered, holding open the door while he thoughtfully regarded the
silent but interested group of villagers that eagerly hung upon every
word that passed.

"Cotting," called Mr. Merrick, "how do they run the paper mill at