at home helping with the packing.
Saturday noon Tom went to the bank and withdrew the $1,275 their father had placed in their college account. The only money left was $112 in the Herald account, just enough to take care of running expenses of the paper.
Hugh Blair owned his home and his paper, was proud of his family and his host of friends, but of actual worldly wealth he had little.
Doctor Stevens drove them to the Junction thirty miles away where Hugh Blair was to take the Southwestern limited. There was little conversation during the drive.
The limited was at the junction when they arrived and goodbyes were brief.
Hugh Blair said a few words to his wife, who managed to smile through her tears. Then he turned to Tom and Helen.
“Take good care of the Herald,” he told them, as he gave them a goodbye hug.
“We will Dad and you take good care of yourself,” they called as he climbed into the Pullman.
Cries of “boooo-ard,” sounded along the train. The porters swung their footstools up into the vestibules, the whistle sounded two short, sharp blasts, and the limited rolled away from the station.
Tom, Helen and their mother stood on the platform until the train disappeared behind a hill.
When they turned toward home, Tom and Helen faced the biggest responsibility of their young lives. It was up to them to continue the publication of the Herald, to supply the money to keep their home going and to build up a reserve which their father could call upon if he was forced to use all the money from their college fund.
CHAPTER III
In the Editor’s Chair
Sunday morning found Tom and Helen Blair entering a new era in their lives. While their father sped toward the southwest in quest of renewed health, they planned how they could develop the Herald.
Their mother was silent through breakfast and several times they saw her eyes dim with tears.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” said Helen. “We’ll manage all right and Dad is going to pull through in fine shape. Why, he’ll be back with us by Christmas time.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are, Helen,” said Mrs. Blair.
“You’ll feel better in a few more hours,” said Tom. “It’s the suddenness of it all. Now we’ve got to buckle down and make the Herald keep on paying dividends.”
Tom and Helen helped their mother clear away the breakfast dishes and then dressed for Sunday school. Mrs. Blair taught a class of ten-to-twelve-year-old girls. Tom and Helen were in the upper classes.
The Methodist church they attended was a red brick structure, the first brick building built in Rolfe, and it was covered with English ivy that threatened even to hide the windows. The morning was warm and restful and they enjoyed the walk from home to church.
The minister was out of town on his vacation and there were no church services. After Sunday school the Blairs walked down to the postoffice. The large mail box which was rented for the Herald was filled with papers, circulars and letters.
“We might as well go back to the office and sort this out,” said Tom, and Mrs. Blair and Helen agreed.
The office was just as Tom and Helen had left it Thursday night for they had been too busy since then helping with the arrangements for their father’s departure to clean it up.
The type was still in the forms, papers were scattered on the floor and dust had gathered on the counter and the desk which had served Hugh Blair for so many years.
“I’ll open the windows and the back door,” said Tom, “and we’ll get some air moving through here. It’s pretty stuffy.”
Mrs. Blair sat down in the swivel chair in front of her husband’s desk and Helen pulled up the only other chair in the office, an uncomfortable straight-backed affair.
“You’re editor now,” Mrs. Blair told Helen. “You’d better start in by sorting the mail.”
“Tom’s in charge,” replied Helen as her brother returned to the office.
“Let’s not argue,” said Tom. “We’ll have a business meeting right now. Mother, you represent Dad, who is the owner. Now you decide who will be what.”
“What will we need?” smiled Mrs. Blair.
“We need a business manager first,” said Helen.
“Wrong,” interjected Tom. “It’s a publisher.”
“Then I say let’s make it unanimous and elect mother as publisher,” said Helen.
“Second the motion,” grinned Tom.
“If there are no objections, the motion is declared passed,” said Helen. “And now Mother, you’re the duly elected publisher of the Rolfe Herald.”
“I may turn out to be a hard-boiled boss,” said Mrs. Blair, but her smile belied her words.
“We’re not worrying a whole lot,” said Tom. “The next business is selecting a business manager, a mechanical department, an editor, and a reporter. Also a couple of general handymen capable of doing any kind of work on a weekly newspaper.”
“That sounds like a big payroll for a paper as small as the Herald,” protested Mrs. Blair.
“I think you’ll be able to get them reasonable,” said Tom.
“In which case,” added Helen, “you’d better appoint Tom as business manager, mechanical department, and handyman.”
“And you might as well name Helen as editor, reporter and first assistant to the handyman,” grinned Tom.
“I’ve filled my positions easier than I expected,” smiled Mrs. Blair. “As publisher, I’ll stay at home and keep out of your way.”
“Mother, we don’t want you to do that,” exclaimed Helen. “We want you to come down and help us whenever you have time.”
“But what could I do?” asked her mother.
“Lots of things. For instance, jot down all of the personal items you know about your friends and about all of the club meetings. That would be a great help to me. Sometimes in the evening maybe you’d even find time to write them up, for Tom and I are going to be frightfully busy between going to school and running the Herald.”
“I’ll tell the town,” said Tom. “If you’d handle the society news, Mother, you could make it a great feature. The Herald has never paid much attention to the social events in town. Guess Dad was too busy. But I think the women would appreciate having all of their parties written up. I could set up a nice head, ‘Society News of Rolfe,’ and we’d run a column or so every week on one of the inside pages.”
“You’re getting me all excited, Tom,” said his mother. “Your father said I never would make a newspaper woman but if you and Helen will have a little patience with me, I’d really enjoy writing the social items.”
“Have
