by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER III _In the Editor's Chair_
Sunday morning found Tom and Helen Blair entering a new era in theirlives. While their father sped toward the southwest in quest of renewedhealth, they planned how they could develop the _Herald_.
Their mother was silent through breakfast and several times they saw hereyes dim with tears.
"Don't worry, Mother," said Helen. "We'll manage all right and Dad isgoing to pull through in fine shape. Why, he'll be back with us byChristmas 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 suddennessof it all. Now we've got to buckle down and make the _Herald_ keep onpaying dividends."
Tom and Helen helped their mother clear away the breakfast dishes andthen dressed for Sunday school. Mrs. Blair taught a class often-to-twelve-year-old girls. Tom and Helen were in the upper classes.
The Methodist church they attended was a red brick structure, the firstbrick building built in Rolfe, and it was covered with English ivy thatthreatened even to hide the windows. The morning was warm and restful andthey enjoyed the walk from home to church.
The minister was out of town on his vacation and there were no churchservices. After Sunday school the Blairs walked down to the postoffice.The large mail box which was rented for the _Herald_ was filled withpapers, circulars and letters.
"We might as well go back to the office and sort this out," said Tom, andMrs. Blair and Helen agreed.
The office was just as Tom and Helen had left it Thursday night for theyhad been too busy since then helping with the arrangements for theirfather's departure to clean it up.
The type was still in the forms, papers were scattered on the floor anddust had gathered on the counter and the desk which had served Hugh Blairfor so many years.
"I'll open the windows and the back door," said Tom, "and we'll get someair moving through here. It's pretty stuffy."
Mrs. Blair sat down in the swivel chair in front of her husband's deskand Helen pulled up the only other chair in the office, an uncomfortablestraight-backed affair.
"You're editor now," Mrs. Blair told Helen. "You'd better start in bysorting 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 bewhat."
"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," saidHelen.
"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 _RolfeHerald_."
"I may turn out to be a hard-boiled boss," said Mrs. Blair, but her smilebelied her words.
"We're not worrying a whole lot," said Tom. "The next business isselecting a business manager, a mechanical department, an editor, and areporter. Also a couple of general handymen capable of doing any kind ofwork 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 businessmanager, mechanical department, and handyman."
"And you might as well name Helen as editor, reporter and first assistantto the handyman," grinned Tom.
"I've filled my positions easier than I expected," smiled Mrs. Blair. "Aspublisher, 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 tocome 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 youknow about your friends and about all of the club meetings. That would bea great help to me. Sometimes in the evening maybe you'd even find timeto write them up, for Tom and I are going to be frightfully busy betweengoing 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 paidmuch attention to the social events in town. Guess Dad was too busy. ButI think the women would appreciate having all of their parties writtenup. I could set up a nice head, 'Society News of Rolfe,' and we'd run acolumn or so every week on one of the inside pages."
"You're getting me all excited, Tom," said his mother. "Your father saidI never would make a newspaper woman but if you and Helen will have alittle patience with me, I'd really enjoy writing the social items."
"Have patience with you, Mother?" said Helen. "It's a case of whetheryou'll have patience with us."
"We're going to have to plan our time carefully," said Tom, "for we'llhave 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 wecover all of the class work, receive full credit. The first half of theweek is going to be the busiest for me. I'll have to solicit my ads, setthem up, do what job work I have time for and set up the stories Helenturns out for the paper. I could get in more time in the afternoon thanin 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 bignews events happen over the week-end and she'll be on the job Mondaymorning. I'll have every afternoon and evening for my share of the workand for studying. Then we'll both take Thursday afternoon away fromschool and get the paper out. And on Friday, Mother, if you'll come downand 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 theidea of doing my editorial work in the mornings the first part of theweek 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 onthe next issue," said Tom. "We have a publisher, a business manager andan 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 awhile 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 ina few hours work here in the office to good advantage. I'll stay and helpyou with the dusting and sweeping."
"You run on home and rest," insisted Helen. "Also, don't forget Sundaydinner. We'll be home about two or two-thirty, and we'll be hungry bythat time."
Mrs. Blair picked up the Sunday papers and after warning Tom and Helenthat dinner would be ready promptly at two-thirty, left them in theoffice.
"Well, Mr. Business Manager, what are you going to start on?" askedHelen.
"Mr. Editor," replied Tom, "I've got to throw in all the type from lastweek's forms. What are you going to do?"
"The office needs a good cleaning," said Helen. "I'm going to put on myold apron and spend an hour dusting and mopping. You keep out or you'lltrack dirt in while I'm doing it."
Tom took off the coat of his Sunday suit, rolled up his shirt sleeves anddonned 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 towork with their enthusiasm at a high pitch. Their task was not new but somuch now depended on the success of their efforts that they found addedzest in everything they did.
Helen went through the piles of old papers on her father's desk, throwingmany of them into the large cardboard carton which served as awastebasket. When the desk was finally in order, she turned her attentionto the counter. Samples of stationery needed to be placed in order andshe completely rearranged the
old-fashioned show case with its display ofjob 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 onthe floor, pulled the now heavily laden cardboard carton into thecomposing room, and then secured the mop and a pail of water. The barbershop, located below the postoffice, kept the building supplied with warmwater, and Helen soon had a good pail of suds.
Tom stopped his work in the composing room and came in to watch thescrubbing.
"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 wasrunning the paper and Mother was too busy bringing us up to come downhere 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 histask of throwing in the type.
Helen had the editorial office thoroughly cleaned by one o'clock and satdown in her father's swivel chair to rest. Tom called in from the backroom.
"You'd better plan your editorial work for the week," he said. "I want torun 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 tobe absolutely spot copy. Dad wrote the first column himself and thenclipped 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 areon 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 queercatch in his voice.
Helen did not answer for her eyes filled with a strange mist and herthroat suddenly felt dry and full.
Their father's departure for the southwest had left a great void in theirhome life but Helen knew they would have to make the best of it. She wasdetermined that their efforts on the _Herald_ be successful.
Helen turned to the stack of exchanges which were on the desk and openedthe editorial page of the first one. She was a rapid reader and shescanned paper after paper in quest of editorials which would interestreaders of the _Herald_. When she found one she snipped it out with ahandy pair of scissors and pasted it on a sheet of copy paper. Six orseven were needed for the _Herald's_ editorial page and it took her halfan hour to get enough. With the clipped editorials pasted and new headswritten on them, Helen turned to the typewriter to write the editorialsfor the column which her father was accustomed to fill with his owncomments on current subjects.
Helen had stacked the copypaper in a neat pile on the desk and she took asheet and rolled it into the typewriter. She had taken a commercialcourse the first semester and her mastery of the touch system of typingwas 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 infront of her typewriter, struggling to find the right words. She knew herfather would want only a few simple sentences about his enforced absencefrom his duties as publisher of the paper.
Then Helen got the idea she wanted and her fingers moved rapidly over thekeys. The leading editorial was finished in a short time. It was only oneparagraph 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_. Signed,
Mrs. Hugh Blair, Helen and Tom Blair."
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 type he had been throwing into thecases, came into the editorial office.
He whistled in amazement at the change Helen had brought about. Thepapers were gone from the floor, which had been scrubbed clean, and thedesk and counter were neat and orderly.
"Looks like a different office," he said. "But wait until I have a chanceto swing a broom and mop in the composing room. And I'm going to fix someof the makeup tables so they'll be a little handier."
Helen handed him the editorial and Tom read it thoughtfully.
"It's mighty short," he said, "but it tells the story."
"Dad wouldn't want a long sob story," replied Helen. "Here's the clippededitorials. You can put them on the hook on your Linotype and I'll bringthe others out as soon as I write them."
Tom returned to the composing room with the handful of editorial copyHelen had given him and the editor of the _Herald_ resumed her duties.
She wrote an editorial on the beauty of Rolfe in the spring and anotherone on the desirability for a paved road between Rolfe and Gladbrook, thecounty seat. In advocating the paved road, Helen pointed to the increasedtourist traffic which would be drawn to Rolfe as soon as a paved roadmade Lake Dubar accessible to main highways.
It was nearly two o'clock when she finished her labor at the typewriter.She was tired and hungry. One thing sure, being editor of the _Herald_would be no easy task. Of that she was convinced.
"Let's go home for dinner," she called to Tom.
"Suits me," replied her brother. "I've finished throwing in the lastpage. We're all ready to start work on the next issue."
They took off their aprons and while Helen washed her hands, Tom closedthe windows and locked the back door. He took his turn at the sink andthey locked the front door and started for home.
"What we need now is a good, big story for our first edition," said Tom.
"We may have it before nightfall if those clouds get to rolling muchmore," said Helen.
Tom scanned the sky. The sunshine of the May morning had vanished.Ominous banks of clouds were rolling over the hills which flanked thewestern valley of Lake Dubar and the lake itself was lashed by whitecaps, spurred by a gusty wind.
They went down main street, turned off on the side street and climbed theslope to their home.
Mrs. Blair was busy putting some heavy pots over flowers she wanted toprotect from the wind.
"Dinner's all ready," she told them, "and I've asked Margaret Stevensover. She wants to talk with Helen about the sophomore class picnictomorrow."
"I won't have time to go," said Helen. "We'll be awfully busy working onthe next issue."
"You're on the class committee, aren't you?" asked Tom.
"Yes."
"Then you're going to the picnic. We'll have lots to do on the _Herald_but we won't have to give up all of our other activities."
"Tom is right," said Mrs. Blair. "You must plan on going to the picnic."
Margaret Stevens came across the street from her home. Margaret was adecided brunette, a striking contrast to Helen's blondness.
"We'll go in and eat," said Mrs. Blair. "Then we'll come out and watchthe storm. There is going to be a lot of wind."
Margaret was jolly and good company and Helen thought her mother wise tohave a guest for dinner. It kept them from thinking too much about theirfather's absence.
There was roast beef and hashed brown potatoes with thick gravy, lettucesalad, pickled beets, bread and butter, large glasses of rich milk andlemon pie.
"I've never tasted a better meal," said Tom between mouthfuls.
"That's because you've been so busy at the office," smiled his mother.
"We were moving right along," agreed Tom. "I got the forms all ready forthe next issue and Helen has the editorials done."
"Won't you need a reporter?" asked Margaret.
"We may need one but Helen and Mother are going to try and do all thenews writing," said Tom.
"I mean a reporter who would work for nothing. I'd like to help for I'vealways wa
nted to write."
"You could be a real help, Margaret," said Helen, "and we'd enjoy havingyou help us. Keep your ears open for all of the personal items and tellMother about any parties. She's going to write the society news."
"We're getting quite a staff," smiled Tom. "I'm open for applications ofanyone who wants to work in the mechanical department."
"That's not as romantic as gathering and writing news," said Margaret.
"But just as important," insisted Tom.
The room darkened and a particularly heavy gust of wind shook the house.From the west came a low rumbling.
Tom dropped his knife and fork and went to the front porch.
"Come here, Helen!" he cried. "The storm's breaking. You're going to haveyour first big story right now!"