Aunt Jane's Nieces on Vacation Part 11

"This place is doing me good," she confided to her girl employers, after dinner, when they were seated in a group upon the lawn. "I'm getting over my nervousness, and although I haven't drank a drop stronger than water since I arrived. I feel a new sort of energy coursing through my veins. Also I eat like a trooper--not at night, as I used to, but at regular mealtime. And I'm behaving quite like a lady. Do you know, I wouldn't be surprised to find it just as amusing to be respectable as to--to be--the other thing?"

"You will find it far more satisfactory, I'm sure," replied Patsy encouragingly. "What most surprises me is that with your talent and education you ever got into such bad ways."

"Environment," said Hetty. "That's what did it. When I first went to New York I was very young. A newspaper man took me out to dinner and asked me to have a c.o.c.ktail. I looked around the tables and saw other girls drinking c.o.c.ktails, so I took one. That was where I turned into the rocky road. People get careless around the newspaper offices. They work under a constant nervous strain and find that drink steadies them--for a time. By and by they disappear; others take their places, and they are never heard of again except in the police courts. I knew a girl, society editor of a big paper, who drew her five thousand a year, at one time.

She got the c.o.c.ktail habit and a week or so ago I paid her fine for getting pinched while intoxicated. She was in rags and hadn't a red cent. That set me thinking, and when Tommy fired me from his paper and said the best he could do was to get me a job in the country, it seemed as if my chance to turn over a new leaf had arrived. I've turned it,"

she added, with a pathetic sigh; "but whether it'll stay turned, or not, is a question for the puzzle page."

"Haven't you a family to look after you--or for you to look after?"

asked Beth.

"No. Brother and I were left orphans in a Connecticut town, and he went out West, to Chicago, and promised to send for me. Must have forgot that promise, I guess, for I've never heard of Dan since. I could draw pictures, so I went to New York and found a job. Guess that's my biography, and it isn't as interesting as one of Hearst's editorials, either."

Hetty seemed pleased and grateful to note the frank friendliness of her girlish employers, in whom she recognized the admirable qualities she had personally sacrificed for a life of dissipation. In the privacy of her room at the hotel she had read the first copy of the Millville Tribune and shrieked with laughter at the ingenuous editorials and schoolgirl essays. Then she grew sober and thoughtful, envying in her heart the sweetness and simplicity so apparent in every line. Here were girls who possessed something infinitely higher than journalistic ac.u.men; they were true women, with genuine womanly qualities and natures that betrayed their worth at a glance, as do ingots of refined gold.

What would not this waif from the grim underworld of New York have given for such clear eyes, pure mind and unsullied heart? "I don't know as I can ever swim in their pond," Hetty reflected, with honest regret, "but there's a chance I can look folks square in the eye again--and that wouldn't be so bad."

Monday morning, when Patsy, Louise and Beth drove to their office, Miss Briggs said nonchalantly:

"McGaffey's gone."

"Gone! Gone where?" asked Patsy.

"Back to New York. Caught a freight from the Junction Sat.u.r.day night."

"Isn't he coming back?" inquired Beth.

"Here's a letter he left," said Miss Briggs.

They read it together. It was very brief; "Climate don't suit me. No excitement. I've quit. McGaffey."

"I suppose," said Patsy, with indignation, "he intended to go, all the while, and only waited for his Sat.u.r.day pay."

Miss Briggs nodded. She was at the telegraph instrument.

"What shall we do?" asked Louise. "Can anyone else work the press?"

"I'll find out," said Patsy, marching into the workroom.

Neither Fitz nor Larry would undertake to run the press. They said the machine was so complicated it required an expert, and unless an experienced pressman could be secured the paper must suspend publication.

Here was an unexpected dilemma; one that for a time dazed them.

"These things always happen in the newspaper business," remarked Miss Briggs, when appealed to. "Can't you telegraph to New York for another pressman?"

"Yes; but he can't get here in time," said Patsy. "There's no Monday train to Chazy Junction, at all, and it would be Wednesday morning before a man could possibly arrive. To shut down the paper would ruin it, for everyone would think we had failed in our attempt and it might take us weeks to regain public confidence."

"I know," said Miss Briggs, composedly. "A paper never stops. Somehow or other it always keeps going--even if the world turns somersaults and stands on its head. You'll find a way, I'm sure."

But the bewildered girls had no such confidence. They drove back to the farm to consult with Uncle John and Arthur.

"Let's take a look at that press, my dears," said Mr. Merrick. "I'm something of a mechanic myself, or was in my young days, and I may be able to work this thing until we can get a new pressman."

"I'll help you," said Arthur. "Anyone who can run an automobile ought to be able to manage a printing press."

So they went to the office, took off their coats and examined the press; but the big machine defied their combined intelligence. Uncle John turned on the power. The cylinder groaned, swung half around, and then the huge wooden "nippers" came down upon the table with a force that shattered them to kindlings. At the crash Mr. Merrick involuntarily shut down the machine, and then they all stood around and looked gloomily at the smash-up and wondered if the damage was irreparable.

"Couldn't we print the paper on the job press?" asked the little millionaire, turning to Fitzgerald.

"In sections, sir," replied Fitz, grinning. "Half a page at a time is all we can manage, but we might be able to match margins so the thing could be read."

"We'll try it," said Uncle John. "Do your best, my man, and if you can help us out of this bog you shall be amply rewarded."

Fitz looked grave.

"Never knew of such a thing being done, sir," he remarked; "but that's no reason it's impossible."

"'Twill be a horror of a make-up," added Larry, who did not relish his part in the experiment.

Uncle John put on his coat and went into the front office, followed by Arthur and the girls in dismal procession.

"A man to see the manager," announced Miss Briggs, nodding toward a quiet figure seated on the "waiting bench."

The man stood up and bowed. It was the young bookkeeper from the paper mill, who had so bravely defended the girls on Sat.u.r.day night. Uncle John regarded him with a frown.

"I suppose Skeelty has sent you to apologize," he said.

"No, sir; Skeelty is not in an apologetic mood," replied the man, smiling. "He has fired me."

"What for?"

"Interfering with his workmen. The boys didn't like what I did the other night and threatened to strike unless I was put in the discard."

"And now? asked Uncle John, looking curiously at the man.

"I'm out of work and would like a job, sir."

"What can you do?"

"Anything."

"That means nothing at all."

"I beg your pardon. Let me say that I'm not afraid to tackle anything."

"Can you run a power printing press?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ever had any experience?"