"I shall refrain from criticising your conduct of this mill, Mr.
Skeelty," he quietly observed, "nor shall I dictate what you may do with
your money--provided you succeed in making any."

The manager smiled broadly, as if the retort pleased him.

"Give an' take, sir; that's my motto," he said.

"But you prefer to take?"

"I do," was the cheerful reply. "I'll take your paper, for instance--if
it isn't too high priced."

"In case it is, we will present you with a subscription," said Uncle
John. "But that reminds me: as a part of our bargain I want you to allow
my nieces, or any representative of the _Millville Tribune_, to take
subscriptions among your workmen."

Mr. Skeelty stared at him a moment. Then he laughed.

"They're mostly foreigners, Mr. Merrick, who haven't yet fully mastered
the English language. But," he added, thoughtfully, "a few among them
might subscribe, if your country sheet contains any news of interest at
all. This is rather a lonely place for my men and they get dissatisfied
at times. All workmen seem chronically dissatisfied, and their women
constantly urge them to rebellion. Already there are grumblings, and
they claim they're buried alive in this forlorn forest. Don't appreciate
the advantages of country life, you see, and I've an idea they'll begin
to desert, pretty soon. Really, a live newspaper might do them
good--especially if you print a little socialistic drivel now and then."