going to have to plan our time carefully,” said Tom, “for we’ll have to keep up in our school work. I’ve got it doped out like this. Superintendent Fowler says Helen and I can go half days and as long as we cover all of the class work, receive full credit. The first half of the week is going to be the busiest for me. I’ll have to solicit my ads, set them up, do what job work I have time for and set up the stories Helen turns out for the paper. I could get in more time in the afternoon than in the morning so Helen had better plan on taking the mornings on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday away from school.”
“It will work out better for her, too,” went on Tom. “Many of the big news events happen over the week-end and she’ll be on the job Monday morning. I’ll have every afternoon and evening for my share of the work and for studying. Then we’ll both take Thursday afternoon away from school and get the paper out. And on Friday, Mother, if you’ll come down and stay at the office, we’ll go to school all day. How does that sound?”
“Seems to me you’ve thought of everything,” agreed Helen. “I like the idea of doing my editorial work in the mornings the first part of the week and I’ll be able to do some of it after school hours.”
“Then it looks like the Herald staff is about ready to start work on the next issue,” said Tom. “We have a publisher, a business manager and an editor. What we need now are plenty of ads and lots of news.”
“What would you say, Mother, if Tom and I stayed down at the office a while and did some cleaning up?” asked Helen.
“Under the circumstances, I haven’t any objections,” said their mother. “There isn’t any church service this morning and you certainly can put in a few hours work here in the office to good advantage. I’ll stay and help you with the dusting and sweeping.”
“You run on home and rest,” insisted Helen. “Also, don’t forget Sunday dinner. We’ll be home about two or two-thirty, and we’ll be hungry by that time.”
Mrs. Blair picked up the Sunday papers and after warning Tom and Helen that dinner would be ready promptly at two-thirty, left them in the office.
“Well, Mr. Business Manager, what are you going to start on?” asked Helen.
“Mr. Editor,” replied Tom, “I’ve got to throw in all the type from last week’s forms. What are you going to do?”
“The office needs a good cleaning,” said Helen. “I’m going to put on my old apron and spend an hour dusting and mopping. You keep out or you’ll track dirt in while I’m doing it.”
Tom took off the coat of his Sunday suit, rolled up his shirt sleeves and donned the ink-smeared apron he wore when working in the composing room. Helen put on the long apron she used when folding papers and they went to work with their enthusiasm at a high pitch. Their task was not new but so much now depended on the success of their efforts that they found added zest in everything they did.
Helen went through the piles of old papers on her father’s desk, throwing many of them into the large cardboard carton which served as a wastebasket. When the desk was finally in order, she turned her attention to the counter. Samples of stationery needed to be placed in order and she completely rearranged the old-fashioned show case with its display of job printing which showed what the Herald plant was capable of doing.
With the desk and counter in shape, Helen picked up all of the papers on the floor, pulled the now heavily laden cardboard carton into the composing room, and then secured the mop and a pail of water. The barber shop, located below the postoffice, kept the building supplied with warm water, and Helen soon had a good pail of suds.
Tom stopped his work in the composing room and came in to watch the scrubbing.
“First time that floor has been scrubbed in years,” he said.
“I know it,” said Helen as she swished her mop into the corners. “Dad was running the paper and Mother was too busy bringing us up to come down here and do it for him.”
“He’ll never recognize the old place when he comes back,” said Tom.
“We’ll brighten it up a little,” agreed Helen, as Tom returned to his task of throwing in the type.
Helen had the editorial office thoroughly cleaned by one o’clock and sat down in her father’s swivel chair to rest. Tom called in from the back room.
“You’d better plan your editorial work for the week,” he said. “I want to run the Linotype every afternoon and you’ll have to have copy for me.”
“What do you want first?” said Helen.
“Better get the editorials ready today,” he replied. “They don’t have to be absolutely spot copy. Dad wrote the first column himself and then clipped a column or a column and a half from nearby papers.”
“I’ll get at it right away,” said Helen. “The exchanges for last week are on the desk. After I’ve gone through them I’ll write my own editorials.”
“Better have one about Dad going away,” said Tom and there was a queer catch in his voice.
Helen did not answer for her eyes filled with a strange mist and her throat suddenly felt dry and full.
Their father’s departure for the southwest had left a great void in their home life but Helen knew they would have to make the best of it. She was determined that their efforts on the Herald be successful.
Helen turned to the stack of exchanges which were on the desk and opened the editorial page of the first one. She was a rapid reader and she scanned paper after paper in quest of editorials which would interest readers of the Herald. When she found one she snipped it out with a handy pair of scissors and pasted it on a sheet of copy paper. Six or seven were needed for the Herald’s editorial page and it took her half an hour to get enough. With the clipped editorials pasted and new heads written on them, Helen turned to the typewriter to write the editorials for the column which her father was accustomed to fill with his own comments on current subjects.
Helen had stacked the copypaper in a neat pile on the desk and she took a sheet and rolled it into the typewriter. She had taken a commercial course the first semester and her mastery of the touch system of typing was to stand her in good stead for her work as editor of the Herald.
For several minutes the young editor of the Herald sat motionless in front of her typewriter, struggling to find the right words. She knew her father would want only a few simple sentences about his enforced absence from his duties as publisher of the paper.
Then Helen got the idea she wanted and her fingers moved rapidly over the keys. The leading editorial was finished in a short time. It was only one paragraph and Helen took it out of the machine and read it carefully.
“Mr. Hugh Blair, editor and publisher of the Herald for the last twenty years, has been compelled, by ill health, to leave his work at Rolfe and go to a drier climate for at least six months. In the meantime, we ask your cooperation and help in our efforts to carry out Mr. Blair’s ideals in the publication of the Herald.
After reading the editorial carefully, Helen called to her brother.
“Come in and see what you think of my lead editorial,” she said.
Tom, his hands grimy with ink from the
