AUNT JANE'S NIECES ON VACATION

 BY

 EDITH VAN DYNE

 1912

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THE HOBO AT CHAZY JUNCTIONII THE INVASION OF MILLVILLEIII THE DAWN OF A GREAT ENTERPRISEIV THE WAY INTO PRINTV DIVIDING THE RESPONSIBILITIESVI MR. SKEELTY OF THE MILLVII THE SKETCH ARTISTVIII THE _Millville Daily Tribune_IX TROUBLEX THURSDAY SMITHXI THE HONER'BLE OJOY BOGLINXII MOLLY SIZER'S PARTYXIII BOB WEST INTERFERESXIV THE DANCER SIGNALXV A CLEVER IDEAXVI LOCAL CONTRIBUTORSXVII THE PENALTIES OF JOURNALISMXVIII OPEN WARFAREXIX A MERE MATTER OF REVENGEXX DEFENDING THE PRESSXXI THE COMING OF FOGERTYXXII UNMASKEDXXIII THE JOURNALISTS ABDICATEXXIV A CHEERFUL BLUNDER

CHAPTER I

THE HOBO AT CHAZY JUNCTION

Mr. Judkins, the station agent at Chazy Junction, came out of his littlehouse at daybreak, shivered a bit in the chill morning air and gave aninvoluntary start as he saw a private car on the sidetrack. There weretwo private cars, to be exact--a sleeper and a baggage car--and Mr. Judkins knew the three o'clock train must have left them as it passedthrough. 

"Ah, " said he aloud; "the nabobs hev arrove. "

"Who are the nabobs?" asked a quiet voice beside him. 

Again Mr. Judkins started; he even stepped back a pace to get a betterview of the stranger, who had approached so stealthily through the dimlight that the agent was unaware of his existence until he spoke. 

"Who be you?" he demanded, eyeing the man suspiciously. 

"Never mind who I am, " retorted the other in a grumpy tone; "theoriginal question is 'who are the nabobs?'"

"See here, young feller; this ain't no place fer tramps, " observed Mr. Judkins, frowning with evident displeasure; "Chazy Junction's got all itkin do to support its reg'lar inhabitants. You'll hev to move on. "

The stranger sat down on a baggage truck and eyed the private carreflectively. He wore a rough gray suit, baggy and threadbare, a flannelshirt with an old black tie carelessly knotted at the collar, a brownfelt hat with several holes in the crown, and coarse cowhide shoes thathad arrived at the last stages of usefulness. You would judge him to befrom twenty-five to thirty years of age; you would note that his facewas browned from exposure, that it was rather set and expressionless butin no way repulsive. His eyes, dark and retrospective, were his mostredeeming feature, yet betrayed little of their owner's character. Mr. Judkins could make nothing of the fellow, beyond the fact that he wasdoubtless a "tramp" and on that account most unwelcome in this retiredneighborhood. 

Even tramps were unusual at Chazy Junction. The foothills were sparselysettled and the inhabitants too humble to be attractive to gentlemen ofthe road, while the rocky highways, tortuous and uneven, offered noinvitation to the professional pedestrian. 

"You'll hev to move on!" repeated the agent, more sternly. 

"I can't, " replied the other with a smile. "The car I was--er--attachedto has come to a halt. The engine has left us, and--here we are, I andthe nabobs. "

"Be'n ridin' the trucks, eh?"

"No; rear platform. Very comfortable it was, and no interruptions. Thecrazy old train stopped so many times during the night that I scarcelywoke up when they sidetracked us here, and the first thing I knew I wasabandoned in this wilderness. As it grew light I began to examine mysurroundings, and discovered you. Glad to meet you, sir. "

"You needn't be. "

"Don't begrudge me the pleasure, I implore you. I can't blame you forbeing gruff and unsociable; were you otherwise you wouldn't resideat--at--" he turned his head to read the half legible sign on thestation house, "at Chazy Junction. I'm familiar with most parts of theUnited States, but Chazy Junction gets my flutters. Why, oh, why in theworld did it happen?"

Mr. Judkins scowled but made no answer. He was wise enough to understandhe was no match in conversation for this irresponsible outcast who knewthe great world as perfectly as the agent knew his junction. He turnedaway and stared hard at the silent sleeper, the appearance of which wasnot wholly unexpected. 

"You haven't informed me who the nabobs are, nor why they choose to besidetracked in this forsaken stone-quarry, " remarked the stranger, eyeing the bleak hills around him in the growing light of dawn. 

The agent hesitated. His first gruff resentment had been in a mannerdisarmed and he dearly loved to talk, especially on so interesting asubject as "the nabobs. " He knew he could astonish the tramp, and thetemptation to do so was too strong to resist. 

"It's the great John Merrick, who's got millions to burn but don't lightmany bonfires, " he began, not very graciously at first. "Two years agohe bought the Cap'n Wegg farm, over by Millville, an'--"

"Where's Millville?" inquired the man. 

"Seven mile back in the hills. The farm ain't nuthin' but cobblestonean' pine woods, but--"

"How big is Millville?"

"Quite a town. Eleven stores an' houses, 'sides the mill an' a bigsettlement buildin' up at Royal, where the new paper mill is jeststarted. Royal's four mile up the Little Bill Hill. "

"But about the nabob--Mr. Merrick, I think you called him?"

"Yes; John Merrick. He bought the Cap'n Wegg place an' spent summer'fore last on it--him an' his three gals as is his nieces. "

"Oh; three girls. "

"Yes. Clever gals, too. Stirred things up some at Millville, I kin tellyou, stranger. Lib'ral an' good-natured, but able to hold their own withthe natives. We missed 'em, last year; but t'other day I seen ol' Hucks, that keeps their house for 'em--he 'n' his wife--an' Hucks said they wascumin' to spend this summer at the farm an' he was lookin' fer 'em anyday. The way they togged up thet farmhouse is somethin' won'erful, I'mtold. Hain't seen it, myself, but a whole carload o' furnitoor--an' thensome more--was shipped here from New York, an' Peggy McNutt, over t'Millville, says it must 'a' cost a for-tun'. "

The tramp nodded, somewhat listlessly. 

"I feel quite respectable this morning, having passed the night as theguest of a millionaire, " he observed. "Mr. Merrick didn't know it, ofcourse, or he would have invited me inside. "

"Like enough, " answered the agent seriously. "The nabob's thet recklessan' unaccountable, he's likely to do worse ner that. That's what makeshim an' his gals interestin'; nobody in quarries. How about breakfast, friend Judkins?"

"That's my business an' not yourn. My missus never feeds tramps. "

"Rather ungracious to travelers, eh?"

"Ef you're a traveler, go to the hoe-tel yonder an' buy your breakfas'like a man. "

"Thank you; I may follow your advice. "

The agent walked up the track and put out the semaphore lights, for thesun was beginning to rise over the hills. By the time he came back acolored porter stood on the platform of the private car and nodded tohim. 

"Folks up yit?" asked Judkins. 

"Dressing, seh. "

"Goin' ter feed 'em in there?"

"Not dis mohnin'. Dey'll breakfas' at de hotel. Carriage here yit?"

"Not yit. I s'pose ol' Hucks'll drive over for 'em, " said the agent. 

"Dey's 'spectin' some one, seh. As fer me, I gotta live heah all day, an' it makes me sick teh think of it. "

"Heh!" retorted the agent, scornfully; "you won't git sick. You're toowell paid fer that. "

The porter grinned, and just then a little old gentleman with a rosy, cheery face pushed him aside and trotted down the steps. 

"Mornin', Judkins!" he cried, and shook the agent's hand. "What aglorious sunrise, and what crisp, delicious air! Ah, but it's good to bein old Chazy County again!"

The agent straightened up, his face wreathed with smiles, and cast an "Itold you so!" glance toward the man on the truck. But the stranger haddisappeared. 

CHAPTER II

THE INVASION OF MILLVILLE

Over the brow of the little hill appeared a three-seated wagon, drawn bya pair of handsome sorrels, and in a moment the equipage halted besidethe sleeper. 

"Oh, Thomas Hucks--you dear, dear Thomas!" cried a clear, eager voice, and out from the car rushed Miss Patricia Doyle, to throw her arms aboutthe neck of the old, stoop-shouldered and white-haired driver, whoseface was illumined by a joyous smile. 

"Glad to see ye, Miss Patsy; right glad 'ndeed, child, " returned the oldman. But others were waiting to greet him; pretty Beth De Graf anddainty Louise Merrick--not Louise "Merrick" any longer, though, butbearing a new name she had recently acquired--and demure Mary, Patsy'slittle maid and an old friend of Thomas Hucks', and Uncle John with hismerry laugh and cordial handshake and, finally, a tall and ratherdandified young man who remained an interested spectator in thebackground until Mr. Merrick seized and dragged him forward. 

"Here's another for you to know, Thomas, " said the little millionaire. "This is the other half of our Louise--Mr. Arthur Weldon--and by and byyou can judge whether he's the better half or not. "

The aged servant, hat in hand, made a respectful bow to Mr. Weldon. Hisfrank eyes swept the young man from head to foot but his smile was thesame as before. 

"Miss Louise is wiser ner I be, " said the old fellow simply; "I'm safeto trust to her jedgment, I guess. "

There was a general laugh, at this, and they began to clamber aboard thewagon and to stow away beneath the seats the luggage the colored porterwas bringing out. 

"Stop at the Junction House, Thomas, " said Mr. Merrick as they movedaway. 

"Nora has the breakfast all ready at home, sir, " replied Thomas. 

"Good for Nora! But we can't fast until we reach home--eight good milesof jolting--so we'll stop at the Junction House for a glass of Mrs. Todd's famous milk. "

"Very good, sir. "

"Is anyone coming for our trunks and freight? There's half a car oftruck to be carted over. "

"Ned's on the way, sir; and he'll get the liveryman to help if he can'tcarry it all. "

The Junction House was hidden from the station by the tiny hill, as werethe half dozen other buildings tributary to Chazy Junction. As the wagondrew up before the long piazza which extended along the front of thelittle frame inn they saw a man in shabby gray seated at a small tablewith some bread and a glass of milk before him. It was theirunrecognized guest of the night--the uninvited lodger on the rearplatform--but he did not raise his eyes or appear to notice the newarrivals. 

"Mrs. Todd! Hey, Mrs. Todd!" called Uncle John. "Anybody milked the cowyet?"

A frowsy looking woman came out, all smiles, and nodded pleasantly atthe expectant group in the wagon. Behind her loomed the tall, lean formof Lucky Todd, the "proprietor, " who was serious as a goat, which animalhe closely resembled in feature. 

"Breakfas' all 'round, Mr. Merrick?" asked the woman. 

"Not this time, Mrs. Todd. Nora has our breakfast waiting for us. But wewant some of your delicious milk to last us to the farm. "

"Las' night's milkin's half cream by this time, " she rejoined, as shebriskly reentered the house. 

The man at the table held out his empty glass. 

"Here; fill this up, " he said to Lucky Todd. 

The somber-faced proprietor turned his gaze from the Merrick group tothe stranger, eyed him pensively a moment and then faced the wagonagain. The man in gray got up, placed the empty glass in Todd's hand, whirled him around facing the door and said sternly:

"More milk!"

The landlord walked in like an automaton, and a suppressed giggle camefrom the girls in the wagon. Uncle John was likewise amused, and despitethe unknown's frazzled apparel the little millionaire addressed him inthe same tone he would have used toward an equal. 

"Don't blame you, sir. Nobody ever tasted better milk than they have atthe Junction House. "

The man, who had resumed his seat, stood up, took off his hat and bowed. But he made no reply. 

Out came Mrs. Todd, accompanied by another frowsy woman. Between themthey bore a huge jug of milk, a number of thick glasses and a plate ofcrackers. 

"The crackers come extry, Mr. Merrick, " said the landlady, "but seein'as milk's cheap I thought you might like 'em. "

The landlord now came out and placed the stranger's glass, about halffilled with milk, on the table before him. The man looked at it, frowned, and tossed off the milk in one gulp. 

"More!" he said, holding out the glass. 

Todd shook his head. 

"Ain't no more, " he declared. 

His wife overheard him and pausing in her task of refilling the glassesfor the rich man's party she looked over her shoulder and said:

"Give him what he wants, Lucky. "

The landlord pondered. 

"Not fer ten cents, Nancy, " he protested. "The feller said he wanted tencents wuth o' breakfas', an' by Joe he's had it. "

"Milk's cheap, " remarked Mrs. Todd. "It's crackers as is expensive thesedays. Fill up his glass, Lucky. "

"Why is your husband called 'Lucky, ' Mrs. Todd?" inquired Patsy, who wasenjoying the cool, creamy milk. 

"'Cause he got me to manage him, I guess, " was the laughing reply. "Toddain't much 'count 'nless I'm on the spot to order him 'round. "

The landlord came out with the glass of milk but paused before he set itdown. 

"Let's see your money, " he said suspiciously. 

It seemed to the girls, who were curiously watching the scene, that thetramp flushed under his bronzed skin; but without reply he searched ina pocket and drew out four copper cents, which he laid upon the table. After further exploration he abstracted a nickel from another pocket andpushed the coins toward the landlord. 

"'Nother cent, " said Todd. 

Continued search seemed for a time hopeless, but at last, in quite anunexpected way, the man produced the final cent and on receiving it Toddset down the milk. 

"Anything more, yer honor?" he asked sarcastically. 

"Yes; you might bring me the morning paper, " was the reply. 

Everyone except Todd laughed frankly at this retort. Uncle John put twosilver dollars in Mrs. Todd's chubby hand and told Thomas to drive on. 

"I dunno, " remarked old Hucks, when they were out of earshot, "whetherthat feller's jest a common tramp or a workman goin' over to the papermill at Royal. Jedgin' from the fact as he had money I guess he's aworkman. "

"Wrong, Thomas, quite wrong, " said Beth, seated just behind him. "Didyou notice his hands?"

"No, Miss Beth. "

"They were not rough and the fingers were slender and delicate. "

"That's the mark of a cracksman, " said Arthur Weldon, with a laugh. "Ifthere are any safes out here that are worth cracking, I'd say look outfor the gentleman. "

"His face isn't bad at all, " remarked Patsy, reflectively. "Isn't thereany grade between a workman and a thief?"

"Of course, " asserted Mr. Merrick, in his brisk way. "This fellow, shabby as he looked, might be anything--from a strolling artist to agentleman down on his luck. But what's the news, Thomas? How are Etheland Joe?"

"Mr. An' Mrs. Wegg is quite comf't'ble, sir, thank you, " replied oldHucks, with a show of eagerness. "Miss Ethel's gran'ther, ol' WillThompson, he's dead, you know, an' the young folks hev fixed up theThompson house like a palace. Guess ye'd better speak to 'em aboutspendin' so much money, Mr. Merrick; I'm 'fraid they may need it someday. "

"Don't worry. They've a fine income for life, Thomas, and there will beplenty to leave to their children--if they have any. But tell me aboutthe mill at Royal. Where _is_ Royal, anyhow?"

"Four mile up the Little Bill Creek, sir, where the Royal Waterfall is. A feller come an' looked the place over las' year an' said the pineforest would grind up inter paper an' the waterfall would do thegrindin'. So he bought a mile o' forest an' built a mill, an' they dosay things is hummin' up to the new settlement. There's more'n twohundred hands a-workin' there, a'ready. "

"Goodness me!" cried Patsy; "this thing must have livened up sleepy oldMillville considerably. "

"Not yet, " said Hucks, shaking his head. "The comp'ny what owns the millkeeps a store there for the workmen, an' none of 'em come much toMillville. Our storekeepers is madder'n blazes about it; but fer my partI'm glad the two places is separated. "

"Why?" asked Louise. 

"They're a kinder tough lot, I guess. Turnin' pine trees inter papermus' be a job thet takes more muscle than brains. I don't see how it'sdone, at all. "

"It's simple enough, " said Mr. Merrick. "First the wood is ground intopulp, and then the pulp is run through hot rollers, coming out paper. It's a mighty interesting process, so some day we will all go to Royaland see the paper made. "

"But not just yet, Uncle, " remarked Patsy. "Let's have time to settledown on the farm and enjoy it. Oh, how glad I am to be back in thisrestful, sleepy, jumping-off-place of the world again! Isn't itdelightful, Arthur Weldon? Did you ever breathe such ozony, deliciousmountain air? And do you get the fragrance of the pine forests, andthe--the--"

"The bumps?" asked Arthur, as the wagon gave a jolt a bit more emphaticthan usual; "yes, Patsy dear, I get them all; but I won't pass judgmenton Millville and Uncle John's farm just yet. Are we 'most there?"

"We're to have four whole months of it, " sighed Beth. "That ought toenable us to renew our youth, after the strenuous winter. "

"Rubbish!" said Uncle John. "You haven't known a strenuous moment, mydears, and you're all too young to need renewals, anyhow. But if you canfind happiness here, my girls, our old farm will become a paradise. "

These three nieces of Mr. Merrick were well worth looking at. Louise, the eldest, was now twenty--entirely too young to be a bride; but havingdecided to marry Arthur Weldon, the girl would brook no interferenceand, having a will of her own, overcame all opposition. Her tall, slender form was exceedingly graceful and willowy, her personalitydainty and refined, her temperament under ordinary conditionsessentially sweet and agreeable. In crises Louise developed considerablecharacter, in strong contrast with her usual assumption of well-bredcomposure. That the girl was insincere in little things and cultivated apolished manner to conceal her real feelings, is undeniable; but inspite of this she might be relied upon to prove loyal and true inemergencies. 

Patricia Doyle was more than two years the junior of her cousin Louiseand very unlike her. Patsy's old father, Major Gregory Doyle, said "shewore her heart on her sleeve, " and the girl was frank and outspoken to afault. Patsy had no "figure" to speak of, being somewhat dumpy in build, nor were her piquant features at all beautiful. Her nose tipped at theend, her mouth was broad and full-lipped and her complexion badlyfreckled. But Patsy's hair was of that indescribable shade that hoversbetween burnished gold and sunset carmine. "Fiery red" she was wont todescribe it, and most people considered it, very justly, one of her twoclaims to distinction. Her other admirable feature was a pair ofmagnificent deep blue eyes--merry, mischievous and scintillating asdiamonds. Few could resist those eyes, and certain it is that PatsyDoyle was a universal favorite and won friends without a particle ofeffort. 

The younger of the three nieces, Elizabeth De Graf, was as beautiful agirl as you will often discover, one of those rarely perfect creationsthat excite our wonder and compel admiration--as a beautiful picture ora bit of statuary will. Dreamy and reserved in disposition, she lackedthe graciousness of Louise and Patsy's compelling good humor; yet youmust not think her stupid or disagreeable. Her reserve was reallydiffidence; her dreamy, expressionless gaze the result of a seriousnature and a thoughtful temperament. Beth was quite practical andmatter-of-fact, the reverse of Patsy's imaginative instincts or Louise'saffected indifference. Those who knew Beth De Graf best loved herdearly, but strangers found her hard to approach and were often repulsedby her unresponsive manner. Underneath all, the girl was a real girl, with many splendid qualities, and Uncle John relied upon Beth'sstability more than on that of his other two nieces. Her early life hadbeen a stormy and unhappy one, so she was but now developing her realnature beneath the warmth of her uncle's protecting love. 

Topping the brow of a little hill the wagon came to a smooth downwardgrade where the road met the quaint old bridge that spanned Little BillCreek, beside which stood the antiquated flour and feed mill that hadgiven Millville its name. The horses were able to maintain their brisktrot across the bridge and through the main street of the town, whichwas merely a cluster of unimposing frame buildings, that lined eitherside of the highway for the space of an ordinary city block. Then theywere in the wilds again and rattling over another cobblestone trail. 

"This 'ere country's nuth'n' but pine woods 'n' cobblestones, " sighedold Hucks, as the horses subsided to a walk. "Lor' knows what would 'a'happened to us without the trees! They saves our grace, so's to speak. "

"I think the scenery is beautiful, " observed Patsy. "It's so differentfrom other country places. "

"Not much farming around here, I imagine, " said Arthur Weldon. 

"More than you'd think, sir, " replied Thomas. "There's certain crops asthrives in stony land, an' a few miles north o' here, towardsHuntingdon, the soil's mighty rich 'n' productive. Things ain't never asbad as they seem in this world, sir, " he added, turning his persistentlysmiling face toward the young man. 

Mr. Merrick sat beside the driver on the front seat. The middle seat wasoccupied by Patsy and Beth, between whom squeezed little Mary, themaid. Louise and Arthur had the back seat. 

A quarter of a mile beyond the town they came to a sort of lane runningat right angles with the turnpike, and down this lane old Hucks turnedhis team. It seemed like a forbidding prospect, for ahead of them loomedonly a group of tall pines marking the edge of the forest, yet as theycame nearer and made a little bend in the road the Wegg farm suddenlyappeared in view. The house seemed so cozy and homelike, set upon itsgreen lawn with the tall pines for a background, that the girls, whoknew the place well, exclaimed with delight, and Arthur, who now saw itfor the first time, nodded his head approvingly. 

Uncle John was all excitement over the arrival at his country home. Anold fashioned stile was set in a rail fence which separated the groundsfrom the lane, and Hucks drew up the wagon so his passengers could allalight upon the step of the stile. Patsy was out at a bound. Louisefollowed more deliberately, assisted by her boy husband, and Beth camemore sedately yet. But Uncle John rode around to the barn with Thomas, being eager to see the cows and pigs and poultry with which theestablishment was liberally stocked. 

The house was of two stories, the lower being built of cobblestones andthe upper of pine slabs; but it had been artistically done and theeffect was delightful. It was a big, rambling dwelling, and Mr. Merrickhad furnished the old place in a lavish manner, so that his nieces wouldlack no modern comfort when they came there to spend a summer. 

On the porch stood an old woman clothed in a neat gingham dress andwearing a white apron and cap. Her pleasant face was wreathed in smilesas she turned it toward the laughing, chattering group that came up thepath. Patsy spied her and rushed up to give old Nora a hug and kiss, andthe other two girls saluted the blind woman with equal cordiality, forlong ago she had won the love and devotion of all three. Arthur, who hadheard of Nora, pressed her hand and told her she must accept him asanother of her children, and then she asked for Mr. Merrick and ran into get the breakfast served. For, although blind, old Nora was far frombeing helpless, and the breakfast she had prepared in anticipation oftheir arrival was as deliciously cooked as if she had been able to useher eyes as others did. 

CHAPTER III

THE DAWN OF A GREAT ENTERPRISE

The great enterprise was sprung on Mr. Merrick the very morningfollowing his arrival at the farm. Breakfast was over and a group hadformed upon the shady front lawn, where chairs, benches and hammockswere scattered in profusion. 

"Well, Uncle, how do you like it?" asked Louise. "Are you perfectlycomfortable and happy, now we've escaped so far from the city that itshumming life is a mere memory?"

"Happy as a clam, " responded Uncle John, leaning back in his chair withhis feet on a foot rest. "If I only had the morning paper there would benothing else to wish for. "

"The paper? That's what that queer tramp at the Junction House askedfor, " remarked Beth. "The first thought of even a hobo was for amorning paper. I wonder why men are such slaves to those gossipythings. "

"Phoo!" cried Patsy; "we're all slaves to them. Show me a person whodoesn't read the daily journals and keep abreast of the times and I'llshow you a dummy. "

"Patsy's right, " remarked Arthur Weldon. "The general intelligence andcosmopolitan knowledge of the people are best cultivated by thenewspapers. The superiority of our newspapers has been a factor inmaking us the greatest nation on earth, for we are the best informed. "

"My, what big words!" exclaimed Louise. 

"It is quite true, " said Uncle John soberly, "that I shall miss ourdaily paper during our four months' retirement in these fascinatingwilds. It's the one luxury we can't enjoy in our country retreat. "

"Why not?" asked Patsy, with startling abruptness, while a queerexpression--as of an inspiration--stole over her bright face. 

"Chump!" said Beth, drily; "you know very well why not, Patsy Doyle. Mooley cows and the fourth estate don't intermingle, so to speak. "

"They can be made to, though, " declared Patsy. "Why hasn't some onethought of it before? Uncle John--girls!--I propose we start a dailypaper. "

Louise laughed softly, Beth's lip curled and Arthur Weldon cast anamused glance at the girl; but Uncle John stared seriously into Patsy'squestioning blue eyes. 

"How?" he asked in a puzzled tone. If anything could interest thiseccentric little millionaire more than the usual trend of events it wasan original proposition of this sort. He loved to do things that otherpeople had not attempted, nor even thought of. He hated conversationalplatitudes and established conventions, and his nieces had endearedthemselves to him more by their native originality and frank disregardof ordinary feminine limitations than in any other way. It was generallyconceded that Patsy was his favorite because she could advance more oddsuggestions than the other girls, and this niece had a practicalaptitude for carrying out her whimsical ideas that had long since wonher uncle's respect. Not that she could outdo Mr. Merrick ineccentricity: that was admitted to be his special province, in which hehad no rival; but the girl was so clever a confederate that she gave hererratic uncle much happiness of the sort he most appreciated. 

Therefore, this seemingly preposterous proposition to establish a dailypaper on a retired country farm did not strike the old gentleman asutterly impossible, and anything within the bounds of possibility wassure to meet his earnest consideration, especially when it was proposedby one of his favorite nieces. 

"How?" responded Patsy; "why, it's easy enough, Uncle. We'll buy apress, hire a printer, and Beth and Louise will help me edit the paper. I'm sure I can exhibit literary talents of a high order, once they areencouraged to sprout. Louise writes lovely poetry and 'stories of humaninterest, ' and Beth--"

"I can't write even a good letter, " asserted that young lady; "but I'ddearly love to edit a newspaper. "

"Of course, " agreed Louise; "we all would. And I think we could turnout a very creditable paper--for Millville. But wouldn't it cost a lotof money?"

"That isn't the present question, " replied Uncle John. "The main thingis, do you girls want to be tied down to such a task? Every day in theweek, all during our summer holiday--"

"Why, you've made our whole lives a holiday, Uncle John, " interruptedPatsy, "and we've been so coddled and swamped with luxuries that we arejust now in serious danger of being spoiled! You don't want threespoiled nieces on your hands, do you? And please make allowance for ournatural impetuosity and eagerness to be up and doing. We love the farm, but our happiness here would be doubled if we had some occupation tokeep us busy, and this philanthropic undertaking would furnish us withno end of fun, even while we were benefiting our fellow man. "

"All jabber, dear, " exclaimed Beth. "I admit the fun, but where does thephilanthropy come in?"

"Don't you see?" asked Patsy. "Both Uncle John and that tramp weencountered have met on common ground to bewail the lack of a dailynewspaper 'in our midst'--to speak in journalistic parlance. At thepaper mill at Royal are over two hundred workmen moaning in despairwhile they lose all track of the world's progress. At Huntingdon, notfive miles distant, are four or five hundred people lacking all theeducational advantages of an up-to-date--or is 'down-to-date'proper?--press. And Millville--good gracious! What would sleepyMillville folks think of having a bright, newsy, metropolitan newspaperleft on their doorsteps every morning, or evening, as the case may be?"

"H-m, " said Uncle John; "I scent a social revolution in the wilds ofChazy County. "

"Let's start it right away!" cried Patsy. "The 'Millville Tribune. ' Whatdo you say, girls?"

"Why 'Tribune?'" asked Louise. 

"Because we three will run it, and we're a triumvirate--the futuretribunal of the people in this district. "

"Very good!" said Uncle John, nodding approval. "A clever idea, Patsy. "

"But it's all nonsense, sir, " observed Arthur Weldon, in astonishment. "Have you any idea of the details of this thing you are proposing?"

"None whatever, " said the little millionaire. "That's the beauty of thescheme, Arthur; it may lead us into a reg'lar complicated mix-up, andthe joy of getting untangled ought to repay us for all our bother. "

"Perhaps so--if you ever untangle, " said the young man, smiling at thewhimsical speech. Then he turned to his young bride. "Do you want to gointo this thing, Louise?" he asked. 

"Of course I do, " she promptly replied. "It's the biggest thing in theway of a sensation that Patsy's crazy brain has ever evolved, and I'llstand by the _Millville Tribune_ to the last. You mustn't forget, Arthur, that I shall be able to publish all my verses and stories, whichthe Century and Harpers' so heartlessly turned down. "

"And Beth?"

"Oh, I'm in it too, " declared Beth. "There's something so delightfullymysterious and bewildering in the idea of our editing and printing adaily paper here in Millville that I can hardly wait to begin theexperiment. "

"It's no experiment whatever, " asserted Patsy boldly. "The dailynewspaper is an established factor in civilization, and 'whatever manhas done, man can do'--an adage that applies equally to girls. "

"Have you any notion of the cost of an outfit such as is required toprint a modern daily?" asked Arthur. 

"Oh, two or three hundred, perhaps, but--"

"You're crazy, child! That wouldn't buy the type. "

"Nevertheless, " began Patsy, argumentatively, but her uncle stopped her. 

"You needn't figure on that, " he said hastily. "The outfit shall be mycontribution to the enterprise. If you girls say you're anxious andwilling to run a newspaper, I'll agree to give you a proper start. "

"Oh, thank you, Uncle!"

"Of course we're willing!"

"It is all absolutely settled, so far as we are concerned, " said Patsy, firmly. "How long will it take to get the things here, Uncle?"

Mr. Merrick considered a moment. 

"There's a long-distance telephone over at Cotting's General Store, intown, " he said. "I'll drive over and get Major Doyle on the wire andhave him order the stuff sent out at once. "

"Oh, no!" protested Patsy; "don't tell daddy of this plan, please. He'dthink we were all fit subjects for the lunatic asylum. "

"Major Doyle wouldn't be far wrong in that conclusion, " suggestedArthur. 

"I'd like to surprise him by sending him the first copy of the_Millville Tribune_, " added the major's daughter. 

"Then, " said Mr. Merrick, "I'll call up Marvin, my banker. He'll perhapsattend to the matter more understandingly and more promptly than themajor would. Tell Hucks to harness Joe to the buggy, Patsy, and I'll goat once. "

"We'll all go!" exclaimed Beth. 

"Of course, " added Louise; "we are all equally interested in thisventure. "

So Patsy had old Hucks hitch Joe to the surrey, and the three girlsaccompanied their uncle in his drive to town, leaving Arthur Weldonshaking his head in a deprecating way but fully realizing that noprotest of his would avail to prevent this amazing undertaking. 

"That old man is as much a child as Beth or Patsy, " he reflected. "Itpuzzles me to explain how he made all those millions with so littleworldly wisdom. "

CHAPTER IV

THE WAY INTO PRINT

Sam Cotting's General Store at Millville divided importance with BobWest's hardware store but was a more popular loafing place for thesparse population of the tiny town. The post office was located in onecorner and the telephone booth in another, and this latter institutionwas regarded with much awe by the simple natives. Once in awhile someone would telephone over to the Junction on some trivial business, butthe long-distance call was never employed except by the "nabobs"--thelocal name for John Merrick and his nieces--or by the manager of the newmill at Royal, who had extended the line to his own office in the heartof the pine forest. 

So, when Uncle John and the girls entered Cotting's store and the littlegentleman shut himself up in the telephone booth, a ripple ofexcitement spread throughout the neighborhood. Skim Clark, the youthfulhope of the Widow Clark, who "run the Emporium, " happened to be in thestore and he rushed out to spread the news that "the nabob's talkin' toNew Yoruk!"

This information demanded immediate attention. Marshall McMahon McNutt, familiarly known as "Peggy" McNutt--because he had once lost a foot in amowing machine--and who was alleged to be a real estate agent, horsedoctor, fancy poultry breeder and palmist, and who also dabbled in thesale of subscription books, life insurance, liniment and watermelons, quickly slid off his front porch across the way and sauntered intoCotting's to participate in the excitement. Seth Davis, the blacksmith, dropped his tools and hurried to the store, and the druggist three doorsaway--a dapper gentleman known as Nib Corkins--hurriedly locked his doorand attended the meeting. Presently the curious group was enlarged bythe addition of Nick Thome the liveryman, Lon Taft, a carpenter andgeneral man-of-all-work, and Silas Caldwell the miller, the latter aserious individual who had "jest happened to come acrost from the millin the nick o' time. "

Sam Cotting, being himself of great local importance, had never regardedwith favor the rivalry of the nabob, but he placed stools near thetelephone booth for the three girls, who accepted the courtesy with agraciousness that ought to have disarmed the surly storekeeper. Theycould not fail to be amused at the interest they excited, and as theypersonally knew every one of the town people they pleasantly nodded toeach arrival and inquired after their health and the welfare of theirfamilies. The replies were monosyllables. Millville folks were diffidentin the presence of these city visitors and while they favored the girlswith rather embarrassing stares, their chief interest was centered onthe little man in the telephone booth, who could plainly be seen throughthe glass door but might not be heard, however loudly he shouted. 

"Talkin' to New Yoruk" was yet a marvelous thing to them, and muchspeculation was exchanged in low tones as to the probable cost of sucha conversation as Mr. Merrick was now indulging in. 

"Costs a dollar to connect, ye know, " remarked Peggy McNutt to Ned Long. "Bet a cookie he's runnin' the blame bill up to two dollars, with allthis chinnin'. Why can't th' ol' nabob write a letter, like commonfolks, an' give his extry cash to the poor?"

"Meanin' you, Peggy?" asked Nib Corkins, with a chuckle. 

"He might do wuss ner that, " retorted Peggy. "Lor' knows I'm poorenough. You don't ketch _me_ a-talkin' to New York at a dollar a throw, Nib, do ye?"

Meantime Mr. Merrick had succeeded in getting Mr. Marvin, of the bankinghouse of Isham, Marvin & Co. , on the wire. 

"Do me a favor, Marvin, " he said. "Hunt up the best supply house andhave them send me a complete outfit to print a daily newspaper. Everything must be modern, you know, and don't let them leave outanything that might come handy. Then go to Corrigan, the superintendentof the railroad, and have him send the freight up here to ChazyJunction by a special engine, for I don't want a moment's delay and theregular freight takes a week or so. Charge everything to my account andimpress upon the dealer the need of haste. Understand all that, Marvin?"

"I think I do, sir, " was the reply; "but that's a pretty big order, Mr. Merrick. The outfit for a modern daily will cost a small fortune. "

"Never mind; send it along. "

"Very well. But you'd better give me some details. How big a newspaperdo you want to print?"

"Hold the wire and I'll find out, " said Uncle John. Then he opened thedoor of the booth and said: "Patsy, how big a thing do you want toprint?"

"How big? Oh, let me see. Four pages will do, won't it, Louise?"

"Plenty, I should say, for this place, " answered Louise. 

"And how many columns to a page?" asked Uncle John. 

"Oh, six or seven. That's regular, I guess. "

"Make it six, " proposed Beth. "That will keep us busy enough. "

"All right, " said Uncle John, and closed the door again. 

This conversation was of the most startling nature to the assembledvillagers, who were all trying to look unconcerned and as if "they'djest dropped in, " but were unable to dissemble their curiositysuccessfully. Of course much of this interchange of words between theman in the booth and the girls outside was Greek to them all, but "toprint" and "columns" and "pages" could apply only to one idea, which, while not fully grasped, was tremendously startling in its suggestion. The Merrick party was noted for doing astonishing things in the past andevidently, in the words of Peggy McNutt, they were "up to some blamefoolishness that'll either kill this neighborhood or make it talkedabout. "

"It's too dead a'ready to kill, " responded Nick Thorne gloomily. "Eventhe paper mill, four mile away, ain't managed to make Millville wiggleits big toe. Don't you worry over what the nabob'll do, Peggy; hecouldn't hurt nuthin' if he tried. "

The door opened again and Mr. Merrick protruded a puzzled countenance. 

"He wants to know about a stereotype plant, Patsy. What'll I tell him?"

Patsy stared. Louise and Beth shook their heads. 

"If it belongs to the--the thing we want, Uncle, have 'em send italong, " said Patsy in desperation. 

"All right. "

A few minutes later the little man again appealed to them. 

"How'll we run the thing, girls; steam or electricity?"

Patsy's face was a blank. Beth giggled and Louise frowned. 

"Of course it'll have to be run, " suggested Mr. Merrick; "but how?That's the question. "

"I--I hadn't given that matter thought, " admitted Patsy. "What do youthink, Uncle?"

He considered, holding open the door while he thoughtfully regarded thesilent but interested group of villagers that eagerly hung upon everyword that passed. 

"Cotting, " called Mr. Merrick, "how do they run the paper mill atRoyal?"

"'Lectricity! 'Lectricity, sir!" answered half a dozen at once. 

"They develops the power from the Royal Waterfall of the Little Bill, "explained Cotting, with slow and pompous deliberation. "Mr. Skeelty hetol' me they had enough 'lectric'ty to light up the whole dum countryfer ten mile in all directions, 'sides a-runnin' of the mill. "

"Who's Skeelty?"

"Manager o' the mill, sir, an' part owner, he says. "

"Has he a telephone?"

"Yes, Mr. Merrick. "

"Thank you. "

Mr. Merrick shut the door and called up Skeelty. Five minutes ofbargaining settled the question and he then connected with Mr. Marvinagain and directed him to have the presses and machinery equipped to runby electricity. Thinking he had now given the banker all the commissionshe could attend to with celerity, Uncle John next called up Major Doyleand instructed his brother-in-law to send four miles of electric cable, with fittings and transformers, and a crew of men to do the work, andnot to waste a moment's time in getting them to Millville. 

"What in blazes are ye up to now, John?" inquired the major, onreceiving this order. 

"None of your business, Gregory. Obey orders. "

"Going to light the farm and turn night into day?" persisted the major. 

"This is Patsy's secret, and I'm not going to give it away, " said Mr. Merrick. "Attend to this matter promptly, Major, and you'll see theresult when you come to us in July for your vacation. "

Having attended to all the requirements of the projected _MillvilleTribune_, as he thought, Mr. Merrick called the operator for the amountof his bill and paid it to Sam Cotting--three dollars and eighty cents. The sum fairly made the onlookers gasp, and as the Merrick party passedout, Silas, the miller, said solemnly:

"Don't anybody tell me talk is cheap, arter this. John Merrick may be amillionaire, but ef he keeps this thing up long he'll be a pauper. Thet's _my_ prophe-sigh. "

"Yer off yer base, Si, " said McNutt "Joe Wegg tol' me once thet thenabob's earnin's on his money were more'n he could spend ef he laysawake nights a-doin' it. Joe says it keeps pilin' up on him, tillsometimes it drives him nigh desp'rit. I hed an idee I'd ask him toshuck off some of it onter me. _I_ could stan' the strain all right, an'get plenty o' sleep too. "

"Ye won't hev no call to stan' it, Peggy, " pre-dcted Lon Tait. "Milyunhairs may spend money foolish, but they don't never give noneaway. I've done sev'ral odd jobs fer Mr. Merrick, but he's never give memore'n jest wages. "

"Well, " said McNutt with a sigh, "while he's in easy reach there orterbe _some_ sort o' pickings fer us, an' it's our duty to git all we canout'n him--short o' actoo-al robbery. What do ye s'pose this new dealmeans, boys? Sounds like printin' somethin', don't it?"

"P'raps it's some letterheads fer the Wegg Farm, " suggested NibCorkins. "These Merricks do everything on a big scale. "

"Four pages, an' six columns to a page?" asked Cotting scornfully. "Sounds to me more like a newspaper, folks!"

There was a moment's silence, during which they all stared at thespeaker fearfully. Then said Skim Clark, in his drawling, halting way:

"Ef thet's the case, an' there's goin' ter be a newspaper here inMillville, we may as well give up the struggle, fer the town'll beruined!"

CHAPTER V

DIVIDING THE RESPONSIBILITY

The rest of that day and a good share of the night was devoted to anearnest consultation concerning the proper methods of launching the_Millville Daily Tribune_. 

"We must divide the work, " said Patsy, "so that all will have an equalshare of responsibility. Louise is to be the literary editor and thesociety editor. That sounds like a good combination. "

"There is no society here, " objected Louise. 

"Not as we understand the term, perhaps, " replied Miss Doyle; "but everycommunity, however small, believes it is a social center; and so itis--to itself. If there is a dance or a prayer meeting or a christeningor illness, it must be recorded in our local columns. If Bob West sellsa plow we've got to mention the name of the farmer who bought it; ifthere's a wedding, we'll make a double-header of it; if a baby is born, we will--will--"

"Print its picture in the paper. Eh, Uncle John?" This from Beth. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Merrick. "You must print all the home news, aswell as the news of the world. "

"How are you going to get the news of the world?" asked Arthur. 

"How? How?"

"That was my question. "

"Private wire from New York, " said Mr. Merrick, as the girls hesitatedhow to meet this problem. "I'll arrange with the telegraph companyto-morrow to have an extension of the wire run over from Chazy Junction. Then we'll hire an operator--a girl, of course--to receive the news inthe office of the paper. "

"But who will send us the news?" asked Beth. 

"The Associated Press, I suppose, or some news agency in New York. I'lltelegraph to-morrow to Marvin to arrange it. "

Arthur whistled softly. 

"This newspaper is going to cost something, " he murmured. Uncle Johnlooked at him with a half quizzical, half amused expression. 

"That's what Marvin warned me yesterday, when I ordered the equipment, "said he. "He told me that before I got through with this deal it wouldrun up into the thousands. And he added that Millville wasn't worth it. "

"And what did you say to that, Uncle John?" asked Beth. 

"In that case, I said, I would be sure to get some pleasure andsatisfaction out of your journalistic enterprise. My last financialstatement showed a frightful condition of affairs. In spite of MajorDoyle's reckless investments of my money, and--and the little we manageto give to deserving charities, I'm getting richer every day. When asmall leak like this newspaper project occurs, it seems that Fortune ispatting me on the back. I've no idea what a respectable newspaper willcost, but I hope it will cost a lot, for every dollar it devours makesmy mind just that much easier. "

Arthur Weldon laughed. 

"In that case, sir, " said he, "I can make no further protest. But Ipredict you will find the bills--eh--eh--entirely satisfactory. "

"You mentioned an office, just now, Uncle, " observed Louise. "Must wehave a business office?"

"To be sure, " Mr. Merrick replied. "We must find a proper location, where we can install the presses and all the type and machinery that goto making up a newspaper. I hadn't thought of this before, but it is aserious matter, my dears. We may have to build a place. "

"Oh, that would take too long, entirely, " said Patsy. "Can't we put itin the barn, Uncle?"

"What would happen to the horses and cows? No; we'll take a look overMillville and see what we can find there. "

"You won't find much, " predicted Beth. "I can't think of a singleunoccupied building in the town. "

"Then we'll put it in a tent, " declared Patsy. 

"Don't borrow trouble, " advised Uncle John. "Wait till we've gone overthe ground together. Our truck will require a pretty big place, forMarvin said one freight car wouldn't hold all the outfit. He's going tosend two cars, anyhow. "

"Have him fill up the second with print paper, " proposed Arthur. 

"Ah; that's another thing I hadn't thought of, " said Mr. Merrick. "Howbig a daily edition will you print, Patsy?"

"Let's see, " pondered the girl. "There are about two hundred at Royal, say four hundred at Huntingdon, at Millville about--about--"

"Say fifteen, " said Uncle John; "that's six hundred and fifteen, and--"

"And the farmers, of course. There must be at least a hundred and fiftyof 'em in the county, so that makes seven hundred and seventy-fivecopies a day. "

"Wait a moment!" cried Arthur, somewhat bewildered by this figuring. "Doyou suppose every inhabitant--man, woman and child--will subscribe foryour paper?"

Patsy blushed. 

"Why, no, of course not, " she acknowledged frankly. "How many do youthink _will_ subscribe, Arthur? Remember, it's to be a greatnewspaper. "

"Four pages of six columns each. Plenty big enough for Millville, " hesaid, thoughtfully. "My advice, girls, is to print a first edition ofabout four hundred copies and distribute the papers free in every housewithin a radius of five or six miles from Millville. These will besamples, and after the people have had a chance to read them you can askthem to subscribe. By the way, what will you charge for subscription?"

"How much, Uncle?" asked Patsy, appealingly. 

"A penny paper is the most popular, " he said, regarding her with merry, twinkling eyes. "Say thirty cents a month, or three-fifty a year. That'sas much as these poor people can stand. "

"I think so too, " replied the girl, seriously. 

"But it seems to me a penny paper isn't dignified, " pouted Louise. "Ihad intended to print all my poems in it, and I'm sure that ought tomake it worth at least five cents a copy. "

"That will make it worth more, my dear, " commented Uncle John; "butfrequently one must sell property for less than it's actually worth. You must remember these people have not been used to spending much moneyon literature, and I imagine you'll have to coax them to spend thirtycents a month. Many of the big New York papers are sold for a penny, andwithout any loss of dignity, either. "

"Do you think we can make it pay on that basis, Uncle?" asked Beth. 

Uncle John coughed to gain time while he thought of a suitable reply. "That, my dear, " he informed his niece, "will depend upon how manysubscribers you can get. Subscribers and advertisers are necessary tomake any paper pay. "

"Advertisers!"

"Of course, " said practical Beth. "Every merchant in Millville andHuntingdon will naturally advertise in our paper, and we'll make themajor get us a lot from New York. "

"Oh, " said Patsy; "I see. So _that_ difficulty is settled. "

Arthur smiled, but held his peace. Uncle John's round face was growingmerrier every minute. 

"Patsy, do you think we shall make any money from this venture?" askedLouise. 

"We ought to, if we put our hearts and souls into the thing, " was thereply. "But before we divide any profits we must pay back to Uncle Johnthe original investment. "

"We don't especially care to make any profit, do we?" inquired Beth. "It's fun for us, you know, and a--a--great educational experience, and--and--a fine philanthropy--and all that. We don't need the money, soif the paper pays a profit at a cent a copy we'd better cut down theprice. "

"Don't do that yet, " advised Uncle John, soberly. "There will beexpenses that as yet you don't suspect, and a penny for a paper is aboutas low as you can go. "

"What's to be my position on the staff, Patsy?" asked Beth, turning toher cousin. 

"You're a good mathematician, Beth, so I propose you act as secretaryand treasurer, and keep the books. "

"No; that's too mechanical; no bookkeeping for me. I want somethingliterary. "

"Then you can be sporting editor. "

"Goodness, Patsy! There will be no sporting news in Millville. "

"There will be a ball game occasionally, and I saw some of the menpitching quoits yesterday. But this is to be a newspaper reflecting theexcitement of the entire world, Beth, and all the telegraphic news of asporting character you must edit and arrange for our reading columns. Oh, yes; and you'll take care of the religious items too. We must have aSunday Sermon, by some famous preacher, Uncle. We'll print that everySaturday, so those who can't go to church may get as good a talk as ifthey did--and perhaps a better one. "

"That will be fine, " he agreed. "How about murders, crimes anddivorces?"

"All barred. Nothing that sends a cold chill down your back will beallowed in our paper. These people are delightfully simple; we don'twant to spoil them. "

"Cut out the cold chills and you'll spoil your newspaper, " suggestedArthur. "People like to read of other folks' horrors, for it makes themmore contented with their own lot in life. "

"False philosophy, sir!" cried Fatsy firmly. "You can't educate peopleby retailing crimes and scandals, and the _Millville Tribune_ is goingto be as clean as a prayer book, if I'm to be managing editor. "

"Is that to be your office, dear?" asked Louise. 

"I think so. I've a heap of executive ability, and I'm running over withliterary--eh--eh--literary discrimination. In addition to running thething, I'll be the general news editor, because I'm better posted onnewspaper business than the other girls. "

"How does that happen?" inquired Louise, wonderingly. 

"Why, I--I _read_ the papers more than you or Beth. And I've set myselfto master every detail of the business. No more crocheting or fancywork--no novel reading--no gossipy letter writing. From this day on wemust attend strictly to business. If we're to become journalist, girls, we must be good ones--better than the ordinary--so that Uncle John maypoint to us with pride, and the columns of the _Millville Daily Tribune_will be quoted by the New York and Chicago press. Only in that way canwe become famous throughout the world!"

"Pass me the bonbons, dear, " sighed Louise. "It's a high ambition, isn'tit?"

"A very laudable ambition, " added Uncle John approvingly. "I hope myclever nieces will be able to accomplish it. "

"How about pictures?" asked Beth. "Modern newspapers are illustrated, and have cartoons of the leading events of the day. "

"Can't we buy those things somewhere?" asked Patsy, appealing to UncleJohn again. "There isn't an artist among us, of any account; and weshall be too busy to draw pictures. "

"We must hire an artist, " said Mr. Merrick, adding the item to hismemoranda. "I'll speak to Marvin about it. "

All these details were beginning to bewilder the embryo journalists. Itis quite possible that had not Uncle John placed his order for pressesand type so promptly the girls might have withdrawn from theproposition, but the die was now cast and they were too brave--perhapstoo stubborn--to "back down" at this juncture. 

"I realize, " said Patsy, slowly and with a shake of her flaming head, "that we have undertaken an important venture. Our new enterprise is amost serious one, girls, for there is nothing greater or grander in ouradvanced age than the daily newspaper; no power so tremendous as thePower of the Press. "

"Yes, the press must be powerful or it wouldn't print clearly, " remarkedBeth. 

"We are to become public mentors to the simple natives of Chazy County, "continued Patsy, warming up to her subject and speaking oratorically. "We shall be the guiding star of the--er--er--the benighted citizens ofMillville and Huntingdon. We must lead them in politics, counsel them inthe management of their farms and educate them to the great WorldMovements that are constantly occurring. "

"Let's put all that rot in our prospectus, " said Louise, looking at hercousin admiringly. "Can you remember it, Patsy, or had I better write itdown now? I like that about teaching the farmers how to run theirfarms; it's so practical. "

"You wait, " said Patsy unflinchingly. "I'll write 'em an editorial thatwill make their eyes roll. But it won't do a bit of harm for you andBeth to jot down all the brilliant thoughts you run across, for thebenefit of our subscribers. "

"We haven't any subscribers yet, " remarked Beth, placidly. 

"I'll overcome that defect, " said Uncle John. "I want to subscribe rightnow for ten copies, to be mailed to friends of mine in the city who--whoneed educating. I'll pay in advance and collect of my friends when I see'em. "

This was certainly encouraging and Patsy smiled benignantly. 

"I'll take five more yearly subscriptions, " said Arthur. 

"Oh, but you're going to be on the staff!" cried Patsy. 

"Am I?"

"Certainly. I've been thinking over our organization and while it isquite proper for three girls to run paper, there ought to be a man topose as the editor in chief. That'll be you, Arthur. "

"But you won't print my name?"

"Oh, yes we shall. Don't groan, sir; it's no disgrace. Wait till you seethe _Millville Tribune_. Also we shall print our own names, in that casegiving credit to whom credit is due. The announcement will run somethinglike this: 'Arthur Weldon, General Manager and Editor in Chief; P. Doyle, General News Editor; L. Merrick Weldon, Society and LiteraryEditor; E. DeGraf, Sporting Editor, Secretary and Treasurer. ' You see, by using our initials only, no one will ever suspect we are girls. "

"The Millville people may, " said Arthur, slyly, "and perhaps thedisguise will be penetrated by outsiders. That will depend on thepaper. "

"I don't like that combination of sporting editor and secretary andtreasurer, " objected Beth. "It isn't the usual thing in journalism, I'msure. Suppose you call me Editor of Special Features, and let it go atthat?"

"Have we any special features?" asked Louise. 

"Oh, yes, " said Arthur; "there's Beth's eyebrows, Patsy's nose, and--"

"Do be sensible!" cried Patsy. "This isn't a joking matter, sir. Ournewspaper will have plenty of special features, and Beth's suggestion isa good one. It sounds impressive. You see, Arthur, we've got to use youas a figurehead, but so you won't loaf on your job I've decided toappoint you Solicitor of Advertising and Subscriptions. "

"Thank you, my dear, " he said, grinning in an amused way. 

"You and Louise, who still like to be together, can drive all over thecounty getting subscriptions, and you can write letters on our newstationery to all the big manufacturers of soaps and breakfast foods andbeauty powders and to all the correspondence schools and get theiradvertisements for the _Tribune_. If you get a good many, we may have toenlarge the paper. "

"Don't worry, Miss Doyle; I'll try to keep within bounds. "

And so they went on, laying plans and discussing details in such anearnest way that Uncle John became as enthusiastic as any of them anddeclared in no uncertain tone that the _Millville Daily Tribune_ wasbound to be a "howling success. "

After the girls had retired for the night and the men sat smokingtogether in Uncle John's own room, Arthur said:

"Tell me, sir, why you have encouraged this mad project. "

The little millionaire puffed his pipe in silence a moment. Then hereplied:

"I'm educating my girls to be energetic and self-reliant. I want tobring out and develop every spark of latent ability there is in them. Whether the _Millville Tribune_ succeeds or fails is not important; itwill at least keep them busy for a time, along new lines, and tax theirbest resources of intellect and business ability. In other words, thisexperience is bound to do 'em good, and in that way I figure it will beworth all it costs--and more. I like the originality of the idea; I'mpleased with the difficulties I see looming ahead; I'm quite sure mygirls will rise to every occasion and prove their grit. " He paused toknock the ashes from his pipe. "I'm worth a lot of money, Arthur, " hecontinued, meekly, "and some day these three girls will inherit immensefortunes. It is my duty to train them in all practical business ways totake care of their property. "

"I follow your line of reasoning, sir, " observed Arthur Weldon; "butthis absurd journalistic venture is bound to result in heavy financialloss. "

"I know it, my boy. I'm sure of it. But can't you see that the lessonthey will learn will render them more cautious in making futureinvestments? I'm going to supply a complete newspaper outfit--to thelast detail--and give 'em a good running start. Then I shall sit backand watch results. If they lose money on running expenses, as theysurely will, they'll first take it out of their allowances, then selltheir jewelry, and finally come to me for help. See? The lesson will beworth while, Arthur, and aside from that--think of the fun they'llhave!"

CHAPTER VI

MR. SKEELTY OF THE MILL

The next morning they drove to town again, passing slowly up the streetof the little village to examine each building that might be a possiblelocation for a newspaper office. Here is a map that Patsy drew ofMillville, which gives a fair idea of its arrangement:

[Illustration: Village Street]

Counting the dwellings there were exactly twelve buildings, and they allseemed occupied. 

When they reached the hardware store, opposite Cotting's, Mr. West, theproprietor, was standing on the broad platform in front of it. In manyrespects Bob West was the most important citizen of Millville. Tall andgaunt, with great horn spectacles covering a pair of cold gray eyes, hewas usually as reserved and silent as his neighbors were confiding andtalkative. A widower of long standing, without children or nearrelatives, he occupied a suite of well-appointed rooms over the hardwarestore and took his meals at the hotel. Before Mr. Merrick appeared onthe scene West had been considered a very wealthy man, as it was knownhe had many interests outside of his store; but compared with themulti-millionaire old Bob had come to be regarded more modestly, although still admitted to be the village's "warmest" citizen. He was anauthority in the town, too, and a man of real importance. 

Mr. Merrick stopped his horse to speak with the hardware man, an oldacquaintance. 

"West, " said he, "my girls are going to start a newspaper in Millville. "

The merchant bowed gravely, perhaps to cover the trace of a smile hewas unable to repress. 

"It's to be a daily paper, you know, " continued Mr. Merrick, "and itseems there's a lot of machinery in the outfit. It'll need quite a bitof room, in other words, and we're looking for a place to install it. "

West glanced along the street--up one side and down the other--and thenshook his head negatively. 

"Plenty of land, but no buildings, " said he. "You might buy the old milland turn it into a newspaper office. Caldwell isn't making much of aliving and would be glad to sell out. "

"It's too dusty and floury, " said Patsy. "We'd never get it clean, I'msure. "

"What's in that shed of yours?" asked Uncle John, pointing to a long, low building' that adjoined the hardware store. 

West turned and looked at the shed reflectively. 

"That is where I store my stock of farm machinery, " he said. "There'svery little in there now, for it's a poor season and I didn't lay inmuch of a supply. In fact, I'm pretty well cleaned out of all surplusstock. But next spring I shall need the place again. "

"Good!" cried Mr. Merrick. "That solves our problem. Has it a floor?"

"Yes; an excellent one; but only one small window. "

"We can remedy that, " declared Uncle John. "Here's the proposition, West: Let us have the shed for six months, at the end of which time wewill know whether the _Millville Tribune_ is a success or not. If it is, we'll build a fine new building for it; if it don't seem to prosper, we'll give you back the shed. What do you say?"

West thought it over. 

"There is room on the rear platform, for all the farm machinery I nowhave on hand. All right, Mr. Merrick; I'll move the truck out and giveyou possession. It won't make a bad newspaper office. But of course youare to fit up the place at your own expense. "

"Thank you very much, sir!" exclaimed Uncle John. "I'll set Lon Taft atwork at once. Where can he be found?"

"Playing billiards at the hotel, usually. I suppose he is there now. "

"Very good; I'll hunt him up. What do you think of our newspaper scheme, West?"

The old merchant hesitated. Then he said slowly:

"Whatever your charming and energetic nieces undertake, sir, willdoubtless be well accomplished. The typical country newspaper groansunder a load of debt and seldom gets a fair show to succeed; but in thiscase there will be no lack of money, and--why, that settles thequestion, I think. Money is the keystone to success. "

"Mr. West, " said Louise, with dignity, "we are depending chiefly on theliterary merit of our newspaper to win recognition. "

"Of course; of course!" said he hastily. "Put me down as a subscriber, please, and rely upon my support at all times. It is possible, youngladies--nay, quite probable, I should say--that your originality andgenius will yet make Millville famous. "

That speech pleased Uncle John, and as the hardware merchant bowed andturned away, Mr. Merrick said in his cheeriest tones: "He's quite right, my dears, and we're lucky to have found such a fine, roomy place for ourestablishment. Before we go after the carpenter to fix it up I musttelephone to Marvin about the things we still need. "

Over the long-distance telephone Mr. Marvin reported that he had boughtthe required outfit and it was even then being loaded on the freightcars. 

"I've arranged for a special engine, " he added, "and if all goes wellthe freight will be on the sidetrack at Chazy Junction on Mondaymorning. The dealer will send down three men to set up the presses andget everything in running order. But he asks if you have arranged foryour workmen. How about it, Mr. Merrick? have you plenty of competentprinters and pressmen at Millville?"

"There are none at all, " was the reply. "Better inquire how many we willneed, Marvin, and send them down here. And, by the way, hire women orgirls for every position they are competent to fill. This is going tobe a girls' newspaper, so we'll have as few men around as possible. "

"I understand, sir. "

Uncle John ordered everything he could think of and told his agent toadd whatever the supply man thought might be needed. This business beingaccomplished, he found Lon Taft at the hotel and instructed thecarpenter to put rows of windows on both sides of the shed and to buildpartitions for an editorial office and a business office at the front. 

This was the beginning of a busy period, especially for poor Uncle John, who had many details to attend to personally. The next morning theelectricians arrived and began stringing the power cables from the papermill to the newspaper office. This rendered it necessary for Mr. Merrickto make a trip to Royal, to complete his arrangement with Mr. Skeelty, the manager. He drove over with Arthur Weldon, in the buggy--four milesof hill climbing, over rough cobble-stones, into the pine forest. 

Arriving there, the visitors were astonished at the extent of the plantso recently established in this practically unknown district. The greatmill, where the wood pulp was made, was a building constructed from pineslabs and cobblestones, material gathered from the clearing in which itstood, but it was quite substantial and roomy. Adjoining the mill wasthe factory building where the pulp was rolled into print paper. Surrounding these huge buildings were some sixty small dwellings of thebungalow type, for the use of the workmen, built of rough boards, butneat and uniform in appearance. Almost in the center of this group stoodthe extensive storehouse from which all necessary supplies werefurnished the mill hands, the cost being deducted from their wages. Theelectric power plant was a building at the edge of Royal Waterfall, thelow and persistent roar of which was scarcely drowned by the rumble ofmachinery. Finally, at the edge of the clearing nearest the mills, stoodthe business office, and to this place Mr. Merrick and Arthur at onceproceeded. 

They found the office a busy place. Three or four typewriters wereclicking away, operated by sallow-faced girls, and behind a tall deskwere two bookkeepers, in one of whom Uncle John recognized--with mildsurprise--the tramp he had encountered at Chazy Junction on the morningof his arrival. The young fellow had improved in appearance, havingdiscarded his frayed gray suit for one of plain brown khaki, such asmany of the workmen wore, a supply being carried by the company's store. He was clean-shaven and trim, and a gentlemanly bearing had replaced thecareless, half defiant attitude of the former hobo. It was evident heremembered meeting Mr. Merrick, for he smiled and returned the "nabob's"nod. 

Mr. Skeelty had a private enclosed office in a corner of the room. Beingadmitted to this sanctum, the visitors found the manager to be a small, puffy individual about forty-five years of age, with shrewd, beadlikeblack eyes and an insolent assumption of super-importance. Skeeltyinterrupted his task of running up columns of impressive figures to askhis callers to be seated, and opened the interview with characteristicabruptness. 

"You're Merrick, eh? I remember. You want to buy power, and we have itto sell. How much will you contract to take?"

"I don't know just how much we need, " answered Uncle John. "We wantenough to run a newspaper plant at Millville, and will pay for whateverwe use. I've ordered a meter, as you asked me to do, and my men are nowstringing the cables to make the connection. "

"Pah! a newspaper. How absurd, " said Mr. Skeelty with scornful emphasis. "Your name, Merrick, is not unknown to me. It stands for financialsuccess, I understand; but I'll bet you never made your money doing suchfool things as establishing newspapers in graveyards. "

Uncle John looked at the man attentively. 

"I shall refrain from criticising your conduct of this mill, Mr. Skeelty, " he quietly observed, "nor shall I dictate what you may do withyour 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--ifit isn't too high priced. "

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

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

"They're mostly foreigners, Mr. Merrick, who haven't yet fully masteredthe English language. But, " he added, thoughtfully, "a few among themmight subscribe, if your country sheet contains any news of interest atall. This is rather a lonely place for my men and they get dissatisfiedat times. All workmen seem chronically dissatisfied, and their womenconstantly urge them to rebellion. Already there are grumblings, andthey claim they're buried alive in this forlorn forest. Don't appreciatethe advantages of country life, you see, and I've an idea they'll beginto desert, pretty soon. Really, a live newspaper might do themgood--especially if you print a little socialistic drivel now and then. "Again he devoted a moment to thought, and then continued: "Tell you whatI'll do, sir; I'll solicit the subscriptions myself, and deduct theprice from the men's wages, as I do the cost of their other supplies. But the Company gets a commission for that, of course. "

"It's a penny paper, " said Uncle John. "The subscription is only thirtycents a month. "

"Delivered?"

"I suppose so. "

"Well, I'll pay you twenty cents, and keep the balance for commission. That's fair enough. "

"Very well, Mr. Skeelty. We're after subscriptions more than money, justnow. Get all you can, at that rate. "

After signing a contract for the supply of electrical power, whereby hewas outrageously robbed but the supply was guaranteed, Mr. Merrick andArthur returned to the farm. 

"That man, " said Louise's young husband, referring to the manager of thepaper mill, "is an unmitigated scoundrel, sir. "

"I won't deny it, " replied Mr. Merrick. "It occurs to me he is hiringthose poor workmen at low wages and making a profit on all their livingnecessities, which he reserves the right of supplying from his ownstore. No wonder the poor fellows get dissatisfied. "

CHAPTER VII

THE SKETCH ARTIST

During the next three days so many things happened at Millville that thenatives were in a panic of excitement. Not only was electricity broughtfrom the paper mill, but a telegraph wire was run from Chazy Junction toBob West's former storage shed and a telephone gang came along andplaced a private wire, with long-distance connections, in the newnewspaper office. The office itself became transformed--"as full o'winders as a hothouse!" exclaimed Peggy McNutt, with bulging eyes--andneat partitions were placed for the offices. There was no longer anysecret as to the plans of the "nabobs"; it was generally understood thatthose terribly aggressive girls were going to inflict a daily paper onthe community. Some were glad, and some rebelled, but all were excited. A perpetual meeting was held at Cotting's store to discuss developments, for something startling occurred every few minutes. 

"It's a outrage, this thing, " commented young Skim Clark despondently. "They're tryin' to run mother out o' business--an' she a widder with meto look after! Most o' the business at the Emporium is done innewspapers an' magazines an' sich; so these gals thought they'd cutunder an' take the business away from her. "

"Can't the Widder Clark sell the new paper, then?" asked the blacksmith. 

"I dunno. Hadn't thought o' that, " said Skim. "But the price is to bejus' one cent, an' we've ben gittin' five cents fer all the outsidepapers. Where's the profit comin' from, on one cent, I'd like to know?Why, we make two or three cents on all the five cent papers. "

"As fer that, " remarked the druggist, "we'll get a cheap paper--if it'sany good--an' that's somethin' to be thankful for. "

"'Twon't be any good, " asserted Skim. "Ma says so. "

But no one except McNutt was prepared to agree with this prediction. The extensive plans in preparation seemed to indicate that the new paperwould be fully equal to the requirements of the populace. 

On Monday, when the news spread that two big freight cars had arrived atthe Junction, and Nick Thorne began working three teams to haul theoutfit to Millville, the rest of the town abandoned all business otherthan watching the arrival of the drays. Workmen and machinists arrivedfrom the city and began unpacking and setting up the presses, type casesand all other paraphernalia, every motion being watched by eager facesthat lined the windows. These workmen were lodged at the hotel, whichhad never entertained so many guests at one time in all its pasthistory. The three girls, even more excited and full of awe than thetownspeople, were at the office early and late, taking note ofeverything installed and getting by degrees a fair idea of the extent oftheir new plaything. 

"It almost takes my breath away, Uncle, " said Patsy. "You've given the_Tribune_ such a splendid start that we must hustle to make good andprove we are worthy your generosity. "

"I sat up last night and wrote a poem for the first page of the firstnumber, " announced Louise earnestly. 

"Poems don't go on the first page, " observed Patsy; "but they're neededto fill in with. What's it about, dear?"

"It's called 'Ode to a Mignonette, '" answered Louise. "It begins thisway:

 "Wee brown blossom, humble and sweet, Content on my bosom lying, Who would guess from your quiet dress The beauty there is lying Under the rust?"

"Hm, " said Patsy, "I don't see as there's any beauty under the rust, atall. There's no beauty about a mignonette, anyhow, suspected orunsuspected. "

"She means 'fragrance, '" suggested Beth. "Change it to: 'The fragrancethere is lying under the rust. ' That'll fix it all right, Louise. "

"It doesn't seem right, even then, " remarked Uncle John. "If thefragrance lies under the rust, it can't be smelt, can it?"

"I did not anticipate all this criticism, " said Louise, with an air ofinjured dignity. "None of the big publishing houses that returned mypoems ever said anything mean about them; they merely said they were'not available. ' However, as this poem has not made a hit with themanaging editor, I'll tear it up and write another. "

"Don't do that, " begged Patsy. "Save it for emergencies. We've got tofill twenty-four columns every day, remember!"

By Wednesday night the equipment was fully installed and the workmendeparted, leaving only Jim McGaffey, an experienced pressman, andLawrence Doane--familiarly called Larry--who was to attend to theelectrotyping and "make-up. " The press was of the best modernconstruction, and folded, cut and counted the papers automatically, witha capacity for printing three thousand copies an hour. 

"And at that rate, " observed Patsy, "It will run off our regular editionin eight minutes. "

Aside from the newspaper press there were two "job" presses and anassortment of type for printing anything that might be required, from acalling card to a circus poster. A third man, who came from the cityThursday morning, was to take charge of the job printing and assist inthe newspaper work. Three girls also arrived, pale-faced, sad-eyedcreatures, who were expert typesetters. Uncle John arranged with Mrs. Kebble, the landlady at the hotel, to board all the "help" at moderatecharge. 

It had been decided, after much consultation, to make the _Tribune_ amorning paper. At first it was feared this would result in keeping thegirls up nights, but it was finally arranged that all the copy theyfurnished would be turned in by nine o'clock, and Miss Briggs, thetelegraph editor, would attend to anything further that came in over thewires. The advantages of a morning edition were obvious. 

"You'll have all day to distribute a morning paper, " Arthur pointed out, "whereas an evening paper couldn't get to your scattered subscribersuntil the next morning. "

Miss Briggs, upon whom they were to rely so greatly, proved to be awoman of tremendous energy and undoubted ability. She was thirty-fiveyears of age and had been engaged in newspaper work ever since she waseighteen. Bright and cheerful, of even temper and shrewd comprehension, Miss Briggs listened to the eager explanations of the three girls whohad undertaken this queer venture, and assured them she would assist inmaking a newspaper that would be a credit to them all. She understoodclearly the conditions; that inexperience was backed by ample capitaland unpractical ideas by unlimited enthusiasm. 

"This job may not last long, " she told herself, "but while it does itwill be mighty amusing. I shall enjoy these weeks in a quiet countrytown after the bustle of the big city. "

So here were seven regular employees of the _Millville Daily Tribune_already secured and the eighth was shortly to appear. Preparations werewell under way for a first edition on the Fourth of July and the officewas beginning to hum with work, when one afternoon a girl strolled inand asked in a tired voice for the managing editor. 

She was admitted to Patsy's private room, where Beth and Louise werealso sitting, and they looked upon their visitor in undisguisedastonishment. 

She was young: perhaps not over twenty years of age. Her face bore marksof considerable dissipation and there was a broad scar underneath herright eye. Her hair was thin, straggling and tow-colored; her eyeslarge, deep-set and of a faded blue. The girl's dress was as queer anduntidy as her personal appearance, for she wore a brown tailored coat, ashort skirt and long, buttoned leggings. A round cap of the samematerial as her dress was set jauntily on the back of her head, and overher shoulder was slung a fiat satchel of worn leather. There was littlethat was feminine and less that was attractive about the young woman, and Patsy eyed her with distinct disfavor. 

"Tommy sent me here, " said the newcomer, sinking wearily into a chair. "I'm hired for a month, on good behavior, with a chance to stay on if Iconduct myself in a ladylike manner. I've been working on the _Herald_, you know; but there was no end of a row last week, and they fired mebodily. Any booze for sale in this town?"

"It is a temperance community, " answered Patsy, stiffly. 

"Hooray for me. There's a chance I'll keep sober. In that case you'veacquired the best sketch artist in America. "

"Oh! Are you the artist, then?" asked Patsy, with doubtful intonation. 

"I don't like the word. I'm not a real artist--just a cartoonist andnewspaper hack. Say, it's funny to see me in this jungle, isn't it? Whatjoy I'll have in astonishing the natives! I s'pose a picture's apicture, to them, and Art an impenetrable mystery. What sort of stuff doyou want me to turn out?"

"I--I'm not sure you'll do, " said Miss Doyle, desperately. "I--we--thatis--we are three quite respectable young women who have under-taken toedit the _Millville Daily Tribune_, and the people we have secured toassist us are all--all quite desirable, in their way. So--; ahem!--so--"

"That's all right, " remarked the artist composedly. "I don't know thatI blame you. I can see very well the atmosphere is not my atmosphere. When is the next train back to New York?"

"At four o'clock, I believe. "

"I'll engage a nice upholstered seat in the smoking car. But I'veseveral hours to loaf, and loafing is my best stunt. Isn't this a queerstart for girls like you?" looking around the "den" critically. "Iwonder how you got the bug, and what'll come of it. It's so funny to seea newspaper office where everything is brand new, and--eminentlyrespectable. Do you mind my lighting a cigarette? This sort of a deal isquite interesting to an old-timer like me; but perhaps I owe you anapology for intruding. I had a letter from Tommy and one from a bigbanker--Marvin, I guess his name is. "

She drew two letters from her satchel and tossed them on the desk beforePatsy. 

"They're no good to me now, " she added. "Where's your waste basket?"

The managing editor, feeling embarrassed by the presence of the artist, opened the letters. The first was from Mr. Marvin, Uncle John's banker, saying:

"After much negotiation I have secured for you the best newspaperillustrator in New York, and a girl, too, which is an addedsatisfaction. For months I have admired the cartoons signed 'Het' in theNew York papers, for they were essentially clever and droll. Miss Hewittis highly recommended but like most successful artists is not always tobe relied upon. I'm told if you can manage to win her confidence shewill be very loyal to you. "

The other letter was from the editor of a great New York journal. "Ingiving you Hetty, " he said, "I am parting with one of our strongestattractions, but in this big city the poor girl is rapidly drifting toperdition and I want to save her, if possible, before it is too late. She has a sweet, lovable nature, a generous heart and a keen intellect, but these have been so degraded by drink and dissipation that you maynot readily discover them. My idea is that in a country town, away fromall disreputable companionship, the child may find herself, and come toher own again. Be patient with her and help her all you can. Herwonderful talent will well repay you, even if you are not interested insaving one of God's creatures. "

Silently Patsy passed the letters to Beth and Louise. After reading themthere was a new expression on the faces they turned toward Hetty Hewitt. 

"Forgive me, " said Patsy, abruptly. "I--I think I misjudged you. I waswrong in saying what I did. "

"No; you were quite right. " She sat with downcast eyes a moment, musingdeeply. Then she looked up with a smile that quite glorified her wanface. "I'd like to stay, you know, " she said humbly. "I'm facing acrisis, just now, and on the whole I'd rather straighten up. If you feellike giving me a chance I--I'd like to see if I've any reserve force orwhether the decency in me has all evaporated. "

"We'll try you; and I'm sure you have lots of reserve force, Hetty, "cried Patsy, jumping up impulsively to take the artist's soiled, thinhand in her own. "Come with me to the hotel and I'll get you a room. Where is your baggage?"

"Didn't bring it. I wasn't sure I'd like the country, or that you'd careto trust me. In New York they know me for what I'm worth, and I get lotsof work and good advice--mixed with curses. "

"We'll send for your trunk, " said Patsy, leading the girl up the street. 

"No; it's in hock. But I won't need it. With no booze to buy I caninvest my earnings in wearing apparel. What a picturesque place this is!Way back in the primitive; no hint of those namby-pamby green meadowsand set rows of shade trees that make most country towns detestable;rocks and boulders--boulders and rocks--and the scraggly pines forbackground. The wee brook has gone crazy. What do you call it?"

"Little Bill Creek. "

"I'm going to stab it with my pencil. Where it bumps the rocks it'sobstinate and pig-headed; where it leaps the little shelves of slateit's merry and playful; where it sweeps silently between the curvingbanks it is sulky and resentful. The Little Bill has moods, bless itsheart! Moods betoken character. "

Patsy secured for Hetty a pleasant room facing the creek. 

"Where will you work, at the office or here?" she asked. 

"In the open, I guess. I'll run over the telegraph news to get a subjectfor the day's cartoon, and then take to the woods. Let me know whatother pictures you want and I'll do 'em on the run. I'm a beast towork. "

Arthur Weldon, in his capacity as advertising manager, wrote to all thenational advertisers asking their patronage for the _Millville DailyTribune_. The letters were typewritten by the office stenographer onnewly printed letterheads that Fitzgerald, the job printer, hadprepared. Some of the advertisers were interested enough in Arthur'snovel proposition to reply with questions as to the circulation of thenew paper, where it was distributed, and the advertising rates. Thevoting man answered frankly that they had 27 subscribers already andwere going to distribute 400 free copies every day, for a time, assamples, with the hope of increasing the subscription list. "I am notsure you will derive any benefit at all from advertising in our paper, "he added; "but we would like to have you try it, and you can pay uswhatever you consider the results warrant. "

To his astonishment the advertisements arrived, a great many from veryprominent firms, who accepted his proposal with amusement at hisoriginality and a desire to help the new venture along. 

"Our square statement of facts has given us a good start, " he told thegirls. "I'm really amazed at our success, and it's up to you to make apaper that will circulate and make trade for these trustfuladvertisers. "

With the local merchants the results were less satisfying. Bob West putin a card advertising his hardware business and Nib Corkins cautiouslyinvested a half dollar to promote his drug store and stock of tarnishedcheap jewelry; but Sam Cotting said everybody knew what he had for saleand advertising wouldn't help him any. Arthur drove to Huntingdon withLouise and while the society editor picked up items her husbandinterviewed the merchants. The Huntingdon people were more interested inthe new paper than the Millville folk, and Arthur quoted such low pricesthat several advertisements were secured. Two bright boys of thisthriving village were also employed to ride over to Millville eachmorning, get a supply of _Tribunes_ and distribute a sample copy toevery house in the neighborhood. 

"Fitz" set up the "ads" in impressive type and the columns of the firstedition began to fill up days before the Fourth of July arrived. Louisehad a story and two poems set in type and read over the proofs dozens oftimes with much pride and satisfaction, while Beth prepared an articleon the history of baseball and the probable future of our national game. 

They did not see much of their artist during the first days followingher arrival, but one afternoon she brought Patsy a sketch and asked:

"Who is this?"

Patsy glanced at it and laughed gleefully. It was Peggy McNutt, thefish-eyed pooh-bah of Millville, who was represented sitting on hisfront porch engaged in painting his wooden foot. This was one ofMcNutt's recognized amusements. He kept a supply of paints of manycolors, and every few days appeared with his rudely carved wooden footglistening with a new coat of paint and elaborately striped. Sometimesit would be blue with yellow stripes, then green with red stripes, andanon a lovely pink decorated with purple. One drawback to Peggy'sdelight in these transformations was the fact that it took the paint anight and a day to dry thoroughly, and during this period of waiting hewould sit upon his porch with the wooden foot tenderly resting upon therail--a helpless prisoner. 

"Some folks, " he would say, "likes pretty neckties; an' some wears fancysocks; but fer my part I'd ruther show a han'some foot ner anything. Itdon't cost as much as wearin' socks an' neckties, an' it's more artisticlike. "

Hetty had caught the village character in the act of striping the woodenfoot, and his expression of intense interest in the operation was sooriginal, and the likeness so perfect, from the string suspenders andflannel shirt to the antiquated straw hat and faded and patchedoveralls, that no one would be likely to mistake the subject. The sketchwas entitled "The Village Artist, " and Patsy declared they would run iton an inside page, just to make the Millville people aware of the "powerof the press. " Larry made an etching of it and mounted the plate for adouble column picture. The original sketch Patsy decided to have framedand to hang it in her office. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE MILLVILLE DAILY TRIBUNE

The first edition of the _Millville Daily Tribune_ certainly proved itto be a wonderful newspaper. The telegraphic news of the world's doings, received and edited by the skillful Miss Briggs, was equal to that ofany metropolitan journal; the first page cartoon, referring to theoutbreak of a rebellion in China, was clever and humorous enough todelight anyone; but the local news and "literary page" were woefullyamateurish and smacked of the schoolgirl editors who had prepared them. Perhaps the Chazy County people did not recognize these deficiencies, for the new paper certainly created a vast amount of excitement and wonthe praise of nearly all who read it. 

On the eventful night of the _Tribune's_ "first run" our girls were tooeager to go home and await its appearance, so they remained at theoffice to see the birth of their enterprise, and as it was the nightpreceding the Fourth of July Uncle John gave an exhibition of fireworksin front of the newspaper office, to the delight of the entirepopulation. 

The girl journalists, however, were not so greatly interested infireworks as in the birth of their fascinating enterprise. Wearing longgingham aprons they hovered over the big table where the forms werebeing locked up, and watched anxiously every movement of the workmen. Itwas exceedingly interesting to note how a column of the first page wasleft open until the last, so that copy "hot from the wire" of the verylatest news might be added before going to press. Finally, at exactlytwo o'clock, the forms were locked, placed upon the bed of the press, and McGaffey, a sour-faced individual whose chief recommendation was hisability as a pressman, began to make ready for the "run. "

Outside the brilliantly lighted windows, which were left open for air, congregated a wondering group of the Millville people, many of whom hadnever been up so late before in all their lives. But the event was tooimportant to miss. The huge, complicated press had already inspiredtheir awe, and they were eager to "see it work" as it printed the newpaper. 

The girls tolerated this native curiosity with indulgent good humor andat midnight even passed out sandwiches to the crowd, a supply havingbeen secured for the workmen. These were accepted silently, and as theymunched the food all kept their eyes fixed upon the magicians within. 

There was a hitch somewhere; McGaffey muttered naughty words under hisbreath and plied wrenches and screwdrivers in a way that brought athrill of anxiety, approaching fear, to every heart. The press startedhalf a dozen times, only to be shut down abruptly before it had printeda single impression. McGaffey counseled with Larry, who shook his head. Fitzgerald, the job printer, examined the machinery carefully and againMcGaffey screwed nuts and regulated the press. Then he turned on thepower; the big cylinder revolved; the white paper reeled out like a longribbon and with a rattle and thump the first copy of the _MillvilleDaily Tribune_ was deposited, cut and folded, upon the table placed toreceive it. Patsy made a rush for it, but before she could reach thetable half a dozen more papers had been piled above it, and gatheringspeed the great press hummed busily and the pile of _Tribunes_ grew asif by magic. 

Patsy grabbed the first dozen and handed them to Beth, for they were tobe reserved as souvenirs. Then, running back to the table, she seized abunch and began distributing them to the watchers outside the window. The natives accepted them eagerly enough, but could not withdraw theireyes from the marvelous press, which seemed to possess intelligencealmost human. 

Each of the three girl journalists now had a copy in hand, scanning itwith boundless pride and satisfaction. It realized completely theirfondest hopes and they had good cause to rejoice. 

Then Uncle John, who ought to have been in bed and sound asleep at thisuncanny hour of night, came bouncing in, accompanied by Arthur Weldon. Each made a dive for a paper and each face wore an expression of genuinedelight. The roar of the press made conversation difficult, but Mr. Merrick caught his nieces in his arms, by turn, and gave each one anecstatic hug and kiss. 

Suddenly the press stopped. 

"What's wrong, McGaffey?" demanded Patsy, anxiously. 

"Nothing, miss. Edition off, that's all. "

"What! the entire four hundred are printed?"

"Four twenty-five. I run a few extrys. "

And now a shriek of laughter came from the windows as the villagers, slowly opening the papers they held, came upon the caricature of PeggyMcNutt. The subject of the cartoon had, with his usual aggressiveness, secured the best "standing room" available, and his contemplative, protruding eyes were yet fixed upon the interior of the workroom. Butnow, his curiosity aroused, he looked at the paper to see what hisneighbors were laughing at, and his expression of wonder slowly changedto a broad grin. He straightened up, looked triumphantly around thecircle and exclaimed:

"By gum, folks, this 'ere paper's going to be a go! I didn't take nostock in it till now, but them fool gals seem to know their business, an' I'll back 'em to the last ditch!"

CHAPTER IX

TROUBLE

Of course the girls exhausted their store of "effusions" on the firsttwo or three papers. A daily eats up "copy" very fast and the need tosupply so much material began to bewilder the budding journalists. Therewas not sufficient local news to keep them going, but fortunately theNew York news service supplied more general news than they couldpossibly use, and, besides, Mr. Marvin, foreseeing this dilemma, hadsent on several long, stout boxes filled with "plate matter, " whichmeant that a variety of stories, poems, special articles and paragraphsof every sort had been made into stereotyped plates of column widthwhich could be placed anywhere in the paper where a space needed to befilled. This material, having been prepared by skilled writers, was ofexcellent character, so that the paper gained in its class of contentsas the girlish contributions began to be replaced by "plates. " Thenieces did not abandon writing, however, and all three worked sedulouslyto prepare copy so that at least one column of the Tribune each day wasfilled with notes from their pens. 

Subscriptions came in freely during those first days, for farmers andvillagers alike were proud of their local daily and the price was so lowthat no one begrudged the investment. But Uncle John well knew that ifevery individual in the county subscribed, and the advertising patronagedoubled, the income would fall far short of running expenses. 

Saturday night, when the pay roll had to be met, the girls consultedtogether seriously. In spite of the new subscriptions received, adeficiency must be supplied, and they quietly advanced the money fromtheir private purses. This was no great hardship, for each had an ampleallowance from Uncle John, as well as an income from property owned inher own name. 

"It's only about thirty dollars apiece, " said Patsy. "I guess we canstand that until--until more money begins coming in. "

On Saturday evening there was an invasion of workmen from Royal, many ofwhom we're rough foreigners who came to Millville in search ofexcitement, as a relief from their week's confinement at the pine woodssettlement at the mill. Skeelty, who thought he knew how to manage thesepeople, allowed every man, at the close of work on Saturday, to purchasea pint of whiskey from the company store, charging an exorbitant pricethat netted a huge profit. There was no strong drink to be had atMillville, so the workmen brought their bottles to town, carousing onthe way, and thought it amusing to frighten the simple inhabitants ofthe village by their rude shouts and ribald songs. 

This annoyance had occurred several times since the establishment of themill, and Bob West had protested vigorously to Mr. Skeelty for givinghis men whiskey and turning them loose in a respectable community; butthe manager merely grinned and said he must keep "the boys" satisfied atall hazards, and it was the business of the Millville people to protectthemselves if the workmen became too boisterous. 

On this Saturday evening the girls were standing on the sidewalk outsidethe printing office, awaiting the arrival of Arthur with the surrey, when a group of the Royal workmen appeared in the dim light, swaggeringthree abreast and indulging in offensive language. Uncle John's nieceswithdrew to the protection of the doorway, but a big bearded fellow in ared shirt discovered them, and, lurching forward, pushed his evilcountenance in Patsy's face, calling to his fellows in harsh tones thathe had "found a partner for a dance. "

An instant later he received a swinging blow above the ear that sent himsprawling at full length upon the sidewalk, and a quiet voice said:

"Pardon me, ladies; it seemed necessary. "

All three at once recognized the supposed tramp whom they had seen themorning of their arrival, but whom Uncle John had reported to be one ofthe bookkeepers at the paper mill. The young fellow had no time to saymore, for the downfall of their comrade brought a shout of rage fromthe group of workmen, numbering nearly a dozen, and with one accord theyrushed upon the man who had dared champion the defenseless girls. 

Beth managed to open the door of the office, through which Patsy andLouise slipped instantly, but the younger girl, always cool inemergencies, held the door ajar while she cried to the young man:

"Quick, sir--come inside!"

Really, he had no time to obey, just then. With his back to the door hedrove his fists at his assailants in a dogged, persistent way thatfelled three more of them before the others drew away from his stalwartbows. By that time Larry and Fitzgerald, who had been summoned byLouise, rushed from the office armed with iron bars caught up at random, both eager for a fight. The workmen, seeing the reinforcements, beat aretreat, carrying their sadly pommeled comrades with them, but theirinsulting language was not restricted until they had passed out ofhearing. 

Then the young man turned, bowed gravely to the girls, who had nowventured forth again, and without waiting to receive their thanksmarched calmly down the street. 

When Arthur reached home with the girls, Mr. Merrick was very indignantat his report of the adventure. He denounced Skeelty in unmeasured termsand declared he would find a way to protect Millville from furtherinvasion by these rough and drunken workmen. 

There was no Sunday paper, so the girlish editors found the morrow averitable day of rest. They all drove to Hooker's Falls to church andreturned to find that old Nora had prepared a fine chicken dinner forthem. Patsy had invited Hetty Hewitt, in whom she was now greatlyinterested, to dine with them, and to the astonishment of all the artistwalked over to the farm arrayed in a new gown, having discarded thedisreputable costume in which she had formerly appeared. The new dresswas not in the best of taste and its loud checks made dainty Louiseshudder, but somehow Hetty seemed far more feminine than before, and shehad, moreover, washed herself carefully and tried to arrange herrebellious hair. 

"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'mgetting over my nervousness, and although I haven't drank a dropstronger than water since I arrived. I feel a new sort of energycoursing through my veins. Also I eat like a trooper--not at night, as Iused to, but at regular mealtime. And I'm behaving quite like a lady. Doyou know, I wouldn't be surprised to find it just as amusing to berespectable as to--to be--the other thing?"

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

"Environment, " said Hetty. "That's what did it. When I first went to NewYork I was very young. A newspaper man took me out to dinner and askedme to have a cocktail. I looked around the tables and saw other girlsdrinking cocktails, so I took one. That was where I turned into therocky road. People get careless around the newspaper offices. They workunder a constant nervous strain and find that drink steadies them--fora time. By and by they disappear; others take their places, and they arenever heard of again except in the police courts. I knew a girl, societyeditor of a big paper, who drew her five thousand a year, at one time. She got the cocktail habit and a week or so ago I paid her fine forgetting pinched while intoxicated. She was in rags and hadn't a redcent. That set me thinking, and when Tommy fired me from his paper andsaid the best he could do was to get me a job in the country, it seemedas 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 wentout West, to Chicago, and promised to send for me. Must have forgot thatpromise, I guess, for I've never heard of Dan since. I could drawpictures, so I went to New York and found a job. Guess that's mybiography, and it isn't as interesting as one of Hearst's editorials, either. "

Hetty seemed pleased and grateful to note the frank friendliness of hergirlish employers, in whom she recognized the admirable qualities shehad personally sacrificed for a life of dissipation. In the privacy ofher room at the hotel she had read the first copy of the MillvilleTribune and shrieked with laughter at the ingenuous editorials andschoolgirl essays. Then she grew sober and thoughtful, envying in herheart the sweetness and simplicity so apparent in every line. Here weregirls who possessed something infinitely higher than journalisticacumen; they were true women, with genuine womanly qualities and naturesthat 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 givenfor such clear eyes, pure mind and unsullied heart? "I don't know as Ican ever swim in their pond, " Hetty reflected, with honest regret, "butthere's a chance I can look folks square in the eye again--and thatwouldn't be so bad. "

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

"McGaffey's gone. "

"Gone! Gone where?" asked Patsy. 

"Back to New York. Caught a freight from the Junction Saturday 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. Noexcitement. I've quit. McGaffey. "

"I suppose, " said Patsy, with indignation, "he intended to go, all thewhile, and only waited for his Saturday 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 themachine was so complicated it required an expert, and unless anexperienced pressman could be secured the paper must suspendpublication. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll help you, " said Arthur. "Anyone who can run an automobile ought tobe 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 Johnturned on the power. The cylinder groaned, swung half around, and thenthe huge wooden "nippers" came down upon the table with a force thatshattered them to kindlings. At the crash Mr. Merrick involuntarily shutdown the machine, and then they all stood around and looked gloomily atthe smash-up and wondered if the damage was irreparable. 

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

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

"We'll try it, " said Uncle John. "Do your best, my man, and if you canhelp 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'sno reason it's impossible. "

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

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

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

The man stood up and bowed. It was the young bookkeeper from the papermill, who had so bravely defended the girls on Saturday night. UncleJohn 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 othernight 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?"

The young man hesitated. 

"I'm not sure, " he replied slowly; "but I think I have. "

This statement would not have been encouraging under ordinarycircumstances, but in this emergency Uncle John accepted it. 

"What is your name?" he asked. 

Another moment's hesitation. 

"Call me Smith, please. "

"First name?"

The man smiled. 

"Thursday, " he said. 

All his hearers seemed astonished at this peculiar name, but Mr. Merricksaid abruptly: "Follow me, Thursday Smith. "

The man obeyed, and the girls and Arthur trotted after them back to thepressroom. 

"Our pressman has deserted us without warning, " explained Mr. Merrick. "None of our other employees is able to run the thing. If you can masterit so as to run off the paper tonight, the job is yours. "

Thursday Smith took off his jacket--a cheap khaki affair--and rolled uphis sleeves. Then he carefully looked over the press and found thedamaged nippers. Without a word he picked up a wrench, released the stubends of the broken fingers, gathered the pieces in his hand and asked:"Where is there a carpenter shop?"

"Can you operate this press?" asked Mr. Merrick. 

"Yes, sir. "

"The carpenter shop is a little shanty back of the hotel. You'll findLon Taft there. "

Smith walked away, and Mr. Merrick drew a long breath of relief. 

"That's good luck, " he said. "You may quit worrying, now, my dears. "

"Are you sure he's a good pressman, Uncle?"

"No; but _he_ is sure. I've an idea he wouldn't attempt the thing, otherwise. "

Mr. Merrick returned to the farm, while Arthur drove Louise over toHuntingdon to gather items for the paper, and Patsy and Beth sat in theoffice arranging copy. 

In an hour Smith came back with new nippers, which he fitted to thesteel frame. Then he oiled the press, started it going a fewrevolutions, to test its condition, and handled the machinery sodexterously and with such evident confidence that Larry nodded to Fitzand muttered, "He'll do. "

McGaffey, knowing he was about to decamp, had not kept the press veryclean; but Thursday Smith put in the afternoon and evening removinggrease, polishing and rubbing, until the huge machine shone resplendent. The girls went home at dinner time, but they sent Arthur to the officeat midnight to see if the new pressman was proving capable. The Tuesdaymorning _Tribune_ greeted them at the breakfast table, and the pressworkwas remarkably clean and distinct. 

CHAPTER X

THURSDAY SMITH

In a day or so Mr. Merrick received a letter from Mr. Skeelty, themanager of the paper mill. He said: "I understand you have employed oneof my discharged workmen, who is named Thursday Smith. My men don't wanthim in this neighborhood, and have made a strong protest. I thereforedesire you to discharge the fellow at once, and in case you refuse toaccede to this reasonable demand I shall shut off your power. "

Mr. Merrick replied: "Shut off the power and I'll sue you for damages. My contract with you fully protects me. Permit me a request in turn:that you mind your own business. The _Millville Tribune_ will employwhomsoever it chooses. "

Uncle John said nothing to the girls concerning this correspondence, nor did he mention it to the new pressman. 

On Wednesday Larry and Fitz sent in their "resignations, " to take effectSaturday night. They told Patsy, who promptly interviewed them, that thetown was altogether too slow for men accustomed to the city, but toSmith they admitted they feared trouble from the men at the mill. 

"I talked with one of the mill hands last night, " said Larry, "andthey're up to mischief. If you stay here, my boy, you'd better watchout, for it's you they're after, in the first place, and Skeelty hastold 'em he wouldn't be annoyed if they wiped out the whole newspaperplant at the same time. "

Thursday nodded but said nothing. He began watching the work of the twomen with comprehensive care. When Mr. Merrick came down to the officeduring the forenoon to consult with his nieces about replacing the twomen who had resigned, Smith asked him for a private interview. 

"Come into the office, " said Uncle John. 

When the man found the three girl journalists present he hesitated, butMr. Merrick declared they were the ones most interested in anything anemployee of the paper might have to say to his principals. 

"I am told, sir, " Thursday began, "that the people at the mill haveboycotted this paper. "

"They've cancelled all their subscriptions, " replied Beth; "but as theyhad not paid for them it won't hurt us any. "

"It seems the trouble started through your employing me, " resumed theyoung man; "so it will be best for you to let me go. "

"Never!" cried Mr. Merrick, firmly. "Do you suppose I'll allow thatrascal Skeelty to dictate to us for a single minute? Not by a jug full!And the reason the men dislike you is because you pounded some of themunmercifully when they annoyed my girls. Where did you learn to use yourfists so cleverly, Smith?"

"I don't know, sir. "

"Well, you have earned our gratitude, and we're going to stand by you. Idon't mind a bit of a row, when I'm on the right side of an argument. Doyou?"

"Not at all, sir; but the young ladies--"

"They're pretty good fighters, too; so don't worry. "

Thursday was silent a moment. Then he said:

"Fitzgerald and Doane tell me they're going to quit, Saturday. "

"It is true, " replied Patsy. "I'm sorry, for they seem good men and wemay have trouble replacing them. "

"They are not needed here, Miss Doyle, " said Smith. "There isn't a greatdeal of electrotyping to do, or much job printing. More than half thetime the two men are idle. It's the same way with my own job. Threehours a day will take care of the press and make the regular run. If youwill permit me, I am sure I can attend to all the work, unaided. "

They looked at one another in amazement. 

"How about the make-up?" asked Uncle John. 

"I can manage that easily, sir. I've been watching the operation andunderstand it perfectly. "

"And you believe you can do the work of three men?"

"Three men were unnecessary in a small plant like this, sir. Whoeversent them to you did not understand very well your requirements. I'vebeen watching the compositors, too, and your three girls are one toomany. Two are sisters, and can set all the type very easily. I recommendthat you send the other back to New York. "

They considered this advice seriously. 

"I think Mr. Smith is right, " observed Patsy. "The girls have not seemedbusy, at all, and spend most of their time laughing and talkingtogether. "

"It will cut down expenses a lot, " said Beth, "and I'm sure we ought tobe able to run this paper more economically than we have been doing. "

Uncle John looked at the man thoughtfully. 

"Where did you learn the printing business?" he asked. 

"I--I don't know, sir. "

"What offices have you worked in?"

"I cannot tell you that, sir. "

"You seem to answer all my questions with the statement that you 'don'tknow, '" asserted Mr. Merrick, with an annoyed frown. "Is there anyreason you should refuse to tell us of your former life?"

"None whatever, sir. "

"Who are you, Smith?"

"I--I don't know, sir. "

Mr. Merrick was getting provoked. 

"This obstinacy is not likely to win our confidence, " he said. "Underthe circumstances I think we ought to know something more about you, before we allow you to undertake so much responsibility. You seem abright, able young man, and I've no doubt you understand the work you'reabout to undertake, but if we have no knowledge of your antecedents youmay cause us considerable future trouble. "

Smith bowed his head and his cheeks flamed red. 

"I have no knowledge of my antecedents to confide to you, sir, " he saidin a low voice. 

Uncle John sighed regretfully and turned away, but Patsy looked at theman with new interest. 

"Won't you please explain that a little more fully?" she gentlyinquired. 

"I am quite willing to tell all I know, " said he; "but that is verylittle, I assure you. Two years ago last May, on the morning ofThursday, the twenty-second, I awoke to find myself lying in a ditchbeside a road. Of my life previous to that time I have no knowledgewhatever. "

The three girls regarded him with startled eyes. Uncle John turned fromthe window to examine the young man with new interest. 

"Were you injured?" he asked. 

"My right ankle was sprained and I had a cut under my left eye--you cansee the scar still. "

"You have no idea how you came there?"

"Not the slightest. I did not recognize the surrounding country; I hadno clear impression as to who I was. There was a farmhouse a quarter ofa mile away; I limped to it and they gave me some breakfast. I found Iwas fifty-six miles from New York. The farmer had heard of no accident;there was no railway nearer than six miles; the highway was littleused. I told the good people my story and they suspected me of beingdrunk or crazy, but did not credit a single word I said. "

"That was but natural, " said Uncle John. 

"After breakfast I took stock of myself. In my pockets I found atwenty-dollar bill and some silver. I wore a watch and chain and a ringset with a good-sized diamond. My clothing seemed good, but the ditchhad soiled it. I had no hat, nor could the farmer find one when I senthim back to look for it. My mind was not wholly a blank; I seemed tohave a fair knowledge of life, and when the farmer mentioned New Yorkthe city seemed familiar to me. But in regard to myself, my pasthistory--even my name--I was totally ignorant. All personalconsciousness dated from the moment I woke up in the ditch. "

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Louise. 

"And you haven't solved the mystery yet, after two years?" asked Patsy. 

"No, Miss Doyle. I hired the farmer to drive me to the railway station, where I took the train to New York. I seemed to know the city, but norecollection guided me to home or friends. I went to a small hotel, took a room, and began to read all the newspapers, seeking to discoverif anyone was reported missing. The sight of automobiles led me toconceive the theory that I had been riding in one of those machinesalong a country road when something threw me out. My head might havestruck a stump or stone and the blow rendered me insensible. Somethingin the nature of the thing, or in my physical condition, deprived me ofall knowledge of the past. Since then I have read of several similarcases. The curious thing about my own experience was that I could findno reference to my disappearance, in any way, nor could I learn of anyautomobile accident that might account for it. I walked the streets dayafter day, hoping some acquaintance would accost me. I waited patientlyfor some impulse to direct me to my former haunts. I searched thenewspapers persistently for a clue; but nothing rewarded me. 

"After spending all my money and the proceeds of my watch and diamond, Ibegan to seek employment; but no one would employ a man withoutrecommendations or antecedents. I did not know what work I was capableof doing. So finally I left the city and for more than two years I havebeen wandering from one part of the country to another, hoping that someday I would recognize a familiar spot. I have done odd jobs, at times, but my fortunes went from bad to worse until of late I have become nobetter than the typical tramp. "

"How did you secure employment as a book-keeper for Skeelty?" askedUncle John. 

"I heard a new mill had started at Royal and walked up there to inquirefor work. The manager asked if I could keep books, and I said yes. "

"Have you ever kept books before?"

"Not that I know of; but I did it very well. I seemed to comprehend thework at once, and needed no instruction. Often during these two years Ihave encountered similar curious conditions. I sold goods in a store andseemed to know the stocks; I worked two weeks in a telegraph office anddiscovered I knew the code perfectly; I've shod horses for a countryblacksmith, wired a house for electric lights and compoundedprescriptions in a drug store. Whatever I have undertaken to do I seemable to accomplish, and so it is hard for me to guess what profession Ifollowed before my memory deserted me. "

"You did not retain any position for long, it seems, " remarked UncleJohn. 

"No; I was always impatient to move on, always hoping to arrive at someplace so familiar that my lost memory would return to me. The work Ihave mentioned was nearly all secured during the first year. After Ibecame seedy and disreputable in appearance people were more apt tosuspect me and work was harder to obtain. "

"Why did you come to Millville?" asked Louise. 

"You brought me here, " he answered, with a smile. "I caught a ride onyour private car, when it left New York, not caring much where it mighttake me. When I woke up the next morning the car was sidetracked atChazy Junction, and as this is a section I have never before explored Idecided to stay here for a time. That is all of my story, I believe. "

"Quite remarkable!" declared Mr. Merrick, emphatically. The girls, too, had been intensely interested in the strange recital. 

"You seem educated, " said Patsy thoughtfully; "therefore you must havecome from a good family. "

"That does not seem conclusive, " replied Thursday Smith, deprecatingly, "although I naturally hope my family was respectable. I have beeninclined to resent the fact that none of my friends or relatives hasever inquired what became of me. "

"Are you sure they have not?"

"I have watched the papers carefully. In two years I have followedseveral clues. A bricklayer disappeared, but his drowned body wasfinally found; a college professor was missing, but he was sixty yearsof age; a young man in New York embezzled a large sum and hid himself. Ifollowed that trail, although regretfully, but the real embezzler wascaught the day I presented myself in his place. Perhaps the most curiousexperience was in the case of a young husband who deserted his wife andinfant child. She advertised for him; he had disappeared about the timeI had found myself; so I went to see her. "

"What was the result?" asked Beth. 

"She said I was not her husband, but if he failed to come back I mighttake his place, provided I would guarantee to support her. "

During the laugh that followed, Thursday Smith went back to his work andan animated discussion concerning his strange story followed. 

"He seems honest, " said Louise, "but I blame a man of his ability forbecoming a mere tramp. He ought to have asserted himself and maintainedthe position in which he first found himself. "

"How?" inquired Patsy. 

"At that time he was well dressed and had a watch and diamond ring. Ifhe had gone to some one and frankly told his story he could surely haveobtained a position to correspond with his personality. But instead ofthis he wasted his time and the little capital he possessed in doingnothing that was sensible. "

"It is easy for us to criticise the man, " remarked Beth, "and he may besorry, now, that he did not act differently. But I think, in his place, I should have made the same attempt he did to unravel the mystery of hislost identity. So much depended upon that. "

"It's all very odd and incomprehensible, " said Uncle John. "I wonder whohe can be. "

"I suppose he calls himself Thursday because that was the day he firstfound himself, " observed Patsy. 

"Yes; and Smith was the commonest name he could think of to go with it. The most surprising thing, " added their uncle, "is the fact that a manof his standing was not missed or sought for. "

"Perhaps, " suggested Louise, "he had been insane and escaped from someasylum. "

"Then how did he come to be lying in a ditch?" questioned Patsy; "andwouldn't an escaped maniac be promptly hunted down and captured?"

"I think so, " agreed Mr. Merrick. "For my part, I'm inclined to acceptthe man's theory that it was an automobile accident. "

"Then what became of the car, or of the others in it?"

"It's no use, " said Beth, shaking her head gravely. "If Thursday Smith, who is an intelligent young man, couldn't solve the mystery himself, itisn't likely we can do so. "

"We know as much as he does, as far as that is concerned, " said Patsy, "and our combined intelligence ought at least to equal his. I'm sorryfor the poor man, and wish we might help him to come to his own again. "

They all agreed to this sentiment and while the girls attended to theireditorial duties they had the amazing story of Thursday Smith uppermostin their minds. When the last copy had been placed in the hands of MissBriggs and they were driving to the farm--at a little after sixo'clock--they renewed the interesting discussion. 

Just before reaching the farm Hetty Hewitt came out of the wood just infront of them. She was clothed in her short skirt and leggings and borea fishing rod and a creel. 

"What luck?" asked Patsy, stopping the horse. 

"Seven trout, " answered the artist. "I might have caught more, but thepoor little creatures squirmed and struggled so desperately that Ihadn't the heart to destroy any more of them. Won't you take them homefor Mr. Merrick's breakfast?"

Patsy looked at the girl musingly. 

"Jump in, Hetty, " she said; "I'm going to take you with us for thenight. The day's fishing has tired you; there are deep circles underyour eyes; and that stuffy old hotel isn't home-like. Jump in. "

Hetty flushed with pleasure, but hesitated to accept the invitation. 

"I--I'm not dressed for--"

"You're all right, " said Beth, supporting her cousin's proposition. "We'll lend you anything you need. "

"Do come, Miss Hewitt, " added Louise. 

Hetty sighed, then smiled and finally climbed into the surrey. 

"In New York, " she said, as they started on, "I've sometimes hobnobbedwith editors; but this is somewhat different. "

"In what way?" asked Patsy casually. 

"You're not real journalists, you know, and--"

"Why aren't we journalists?" asked Louise. 

For a moment Hetty was puzzled how to reply. 

"You are doing very good editorial work, " she said mendaciously, "but, after all, you are only playing at journalism. The real journalist--as Iknow him--is a Bohemian; a font of cleverness running to waste; areckless, tender-hearted, jolly, careless ne'er-do-well who works like aTrojan and plays like a child. He is very sophisticated at his desk andvery artless when he dives into the underworld for rest and recreation. He lives at high tension, scintillates, burns his red fire withoutdiscrimination and is shortly extinguished. You are not like that. Youcan't even sympathize with that sort of person. But I can, for I'm cutfrom a remnant of the same cloth. "

"Scintillate all you want to, Hetty, " cried Patsy with a laugh; "butyou're not going to be extinguished. For we, the imitation journalists, have taken you under our wings. There's no underworld at Millville, andthe only excitement we can furnish just now is a night with us at theold farm. "

"That, " replied Hetty, "is indeed a real excitement. You can't quiteunderstand it, perhaps; but it's so--so very different from what I'maccustomed to. "

Uncle John welcomed the girl artist cordially and under his hospitableroof the waif soon felt at ease. At dinner the conversation turned uponThursday Smith and his peculiar experience. Beth asked Hetty if she knewthe man. 

"Yes, " replied the girl; "I've seen him at the office and we'veexchanged a word or two. But he boards with Thorne, the liveryman, andnot at the hotel. "

"You have never seen him before you met him here?"

"Never. "

"I wonder, " said Louise musingly, "if he is quite right in his mind. Allthis story may be an hallucination, you know. "

"He's a very clever fellow, " asserted Hetty, "and such a loss of memoryis by no means so uncommon as you think. Our brains are queerthings--mine is, I know--and it doesn't take much to throw theirmachinery out of gear. Once I knew a reporter who was worried andover-worked. He came to the office one morning and said he was GeorgeWashington, the Commander of the Continental Army. In all other ways hewas sane enough, and we humored him and called him 'General. ' At the endof three months the idea quit him as suddenly as it had come on, and hewas not only normal but greatly restored in strength of intellectthrough the experience. Perhaps some of the overworked brain cells hadtaken a rest and renewed their energy. It would not surprise me if someday Thursday Smith suddenly remembered who he was. "

[Footnote: This anecdote is true. --_Author. _]

"In the meantime, " said Uncle John, "I'm going to make an effort todiscover his identity. "

"In what way, Uncle?" asked Patsy. 

"I'll set Fogerty, who is a clever detective, at work. No man candisappear from his customary haunts without leaving some sort of arecord behind him, and Fogerty may be able to uncover the mystery in ashort time. "

"Then we'll lose our pressman, " declared Beth; "for I'm positive thatThursday Smith was a person of some importance in his past life. "

CHAPTER XI

THE HONER'BLE OJOY BOGLIN

One morning while Patsy was alone in her office, busied over her work, the door softly opened and a curious looking individual stood beforeher. 

He was thin in form, leathery skinned and somewhat past the middle ageof life. His clothing consisted of a rusty black Prince Albert coat, rusty trousers to match, which were carefully creased, cowhide shoesbrilliant with stove polish, a tall silk hat of antiquated design, and afrayed winged collar decorated with a black tie on which sparkled alarge diamond attached to a chain. He had chin whiskers of a sandy graycolor and small gray eyes that were both shrewd and suspicious inexpression. 

He stood in the doorway a moment, attentively eyeing the girl, whileshe in turn examined him with an amusement she could not quite suppress. Then he said, speaking in a low, diffident voice:

"I'm lookin' for the editor. "

"I am the editor, " asserted Patsy. 

"Really?"

"It is quite true. "

He seemed disconcerted a moment, striving to regain his assurance. Thenhe took out a well-worn pocketbook and from its depths abstracted asoiled card which, leaning forward, he placed carefully upon the tablebefore Patsy. She glanced at it and read: "Hon. Ojoy Boglin, Hooker'sFalls, Chazy County. "

"Oh, " said she, rather surprised; "are you Mr. Boglin?"

"I am the Honer'ble Ojoy Boglin, miss, " he replied, dwelling lovinglyupon the "Honer'ble. "

"I have not had the honor of your acquaintance, " said she, deciding shedid not like her visitor. "What is your business, please?"

The Hon. Ojoy coughed. Then he suddenly remembered he was in thepresence of a lady and took off his hat. Next he slid slowly into thevacant chair at the end of the table. 

"First, " he began, "I want to compliment you on your new paper. It's agood thing, and I like it. It's what's been needed in these 'ere parts along time, and it's talked about all over Chazy County. "

"Thank you, " said the editor briefly, for the praise was given in aperfunctory way that irritated her. 

"The only other papers in this senatorial deestric', which covers threecounties, " continued the visitor, in impressive tones, "air weeklies, run by political mud-slingers that's bought up by the Kleppish gang. "

"What is the Kleppish gang?" she asked, wonderingly. 

"The supporters o' that rascal, Colonel Kleppish, who has beenoccupyin' my berth for goin' on eight years, " he said with fierceindignation. 

"I fear I do not understand, " remarked Patsy, really bewildered. "Whatwas your berth, which Colonel Kleppish has--has usurped?"

"See that 'Honer'ble' on the card?"

"I do. "

"That means I were senator--state senator--which makes any common manhoner'ble, accordin' to law, which it's useless to dispute. I wereelected fer this deestric', which covers three counties, " he saidproudly, "an' I served my country in that capacity. "

"Oh, I see. But you're not state senator now?"

"No; Kleppish beat me for the nomination, after I'd served only oneterm. "

"Why?"

"Eh? Why did he git the nomination? 'Cause he bought up thenewspapers--the country weeklies--and set them to yellin' 'graft. ' Hemade 'em say I went into office poor, and in two years made a fortune. "

"Did you?" asked the girl. 

He shuffled in his seat. 

"I ain't used to talkin' politics with a girl, " he admitted; "but seein'as you're the editor of this paper--a daily, by Jupe!--you've probablygot a head on you and understand that a man don't get into office forhis health. There's a lot of bother in servin' your country, and a manoughter be well paid for it. I did jest like the others do--likeKleppish is doin' right now--but the reg'lar voters don't understandpolitics, and when the howl went up about graft, backed by Kleppish'sbought-up newspapers, they turned me down cold. I've been eight yearswatchin' for a chance to get in again, an' now I've got it. "

"This is very interesting, I'm sure, " remarked Patsy; "but our paperdoesn't go much into local politics, Mr. Boglin, and I'm very busyto-day. "

"Honer'ble Ojoy Boglin, " he said, correcting her; but he did not takethe hint to leave. 

Patsy picked up her pencil as if to resume her work, while he eyed herwith a countenance baffled and uncertain. Presently he asked:

"Has Kleppish got this paper too?"

"No, " she coldly replied. 

"I thought I'd likely head him off, you being so new. See here, Editor--"

"I am Miss Doyle, sir. "

"Glad to know you, Miss Doyle. What I was about to remark is this: Theelection for senator comes up agin in September and I want this paper topull for me. Bein' as it's a daily it's got more power than all ofKleppish's weeklies put together, and if you work the campaign properI'll win the nomination hands down. This is a strong Republicandeestric', and to git nominated on the Republican ticket is the same asan election. So what I want is the nomination. What do you say?"

Patsy glared at him and decided that as far as appearances went he wasnot a fit candidate for any office, however humble. But she answereddiplomatically:

"I will inquire into the condition of politics in this district, Mr. Boglin, and try to determine which candidate is the most deserving. Having reached a decision, the _Millville Tribune_ will espouse thecause of the best man--if it mentions local politics at all. "

The Hon. Ojoy gave a dissatisfied grunt. 

"That means, in plain words, " he suggested, "that you'll give Kleppish achance to bid against me. But I need this paper, and I'm willin' to paya big price for it. Let Kleppish go, and we'll make our dicker rightnow, on a lib'ral basis. It's the only way you can make your paper pay. I've got money, Miss Doyle. I own six farms near Hooker's Falls, whichis in this county, and six hundred acres of good pine forest, and I'mdirector in the Bank of Huntingdon, with plenty of money out oninterest. Also I own half the stock in the new paper mill at Royal--"

"You do?" she exclaimed. "I thought Mr. Skeelty--"

"Skeelty's the head man, of course, " he said. "He came to me about themill proposition and I went in with him. I own all the forest aroundRoyal. Bein' manager, and knowin' the business, Skeelty stood out forfifty-one shares of stock, which is the controllin' interest; but I ownall the rest, and the mill's makin' good money. People don't know I'm inthat deal, and of course this is all confidential and not to be talkedabout. "

"Very well, sir. But I fear you have mistaken the character of ourpaper, " said Patsy quietly. "We are quite independent, Mr. Boglin, andintend to remain so--even if we can't make the paper pay. In otherwords, the _Millville Daily Tribune_ can't be bought. "

He stared in amazement; then scratched his ear with a puzzled air. 

"Such talk as that means somethin', " he asserted, gropingly, "but whatit means, blamed if I know! Newspapers never turn money down unlessthey're a'ready bought, or have got a grouch of their own. .. . Say!" hesuddenly cried, as an inspiration struck him, "you ain't got anythingagin the mill at Royal, or agin Skeelty, have you?"

"I have, sir!" declared Patsy, raising her head to frown discouraginglyupon the Honer'ble Ojoy. "Mr. Skeelty is acting in a very disagreeablemanner. He has not only boycotted our paper and refused to pay for thesubscriptions he engaged, but I understand he is encouraging his workmento annoy the Millville people, and especially this printing office. "

"Well--durn--Skeelty!" ejaculated Mr. Boglin, greatly discomposed bythis statement. "But I'll fix all that, Miss Doyle, " he added, eagerly. "Skeelty's my partner and he's got to do what I say or I'll make troublefor him. You dicker with me for the support of your paper and I'llguarantee a hundred subscriptions from Royal and get you an apology fromSkeelty and a promise he'll behave an' keep his men to home. And allthat's outside the price I'll agree to pay. "

Patsy's eyes were full of scorn. 

"I won't dicker with you an instant, " she firmly declared. "I don't knowColonel Kleppish, or what his character is, but I'm very sure he's thebetter man and that the people have made no mistake in electing him inyour place. No respectable candidate for office would attempt to buy thesupport of a newspaper, and I advise you to change the wording on yourcard. Instead of 'Honorable' it should read 'Dishonorable' Ojoy Boglin. Good day, sir!"

Mr. Boglin's face turned white with rage. He half rose from his seat, but sat down again with a vicious snarl. 

"I've coaxed, so far, young woman, " he said grimly, "but I guess it'stime I showed my hand. You'll either run this paper in my interest orI'll push Skeelty on to make the town too hot to hold you. I've gotpower in this county, even if I ain't senator, and you'll feel thatpower if you dare oppose me. Take your choice, girl--either to make goodmoney out o' this campaign, or be run out of town, neck an' crop! It'sup to you to decide. "

"In thirty seconds, " said Patsy, her face as white as was Boglin's, "Ishall ring this bell to summon my men to throw you out. "

The Honer'ble Ojoy slowly rose and put on his hat. 

"Look out!" he said warningly. 

"I will, " snapped Patsy. 

"This ain't the end of it, girl!"

"There are ten seconds left, " she said. 

He picked up his card, turned his back and walked out, leaving hisopponent trembling betwixt agitation and righteous indignation. A fewmoments later Bob West came in and looked at the girl editor curiously. 

"Ojoy Boglin has been here, " he said. 

"The Honer'ble Ojoy, if you please, " answered Patsy, with a laugh thatbordered on hysteria. 

The hardware man nodded, his eyes reading her face. 

"You were quite right to turn him down, " he asserted. 

"It was the only thing to do, " responded the girl, wondering how heknew. 

"But Boglin is a dangerous man, " resumed West. "Look out for him. MissDoyle. "

"Yes; he told me to do that, and I will, " said she, more quietly. "He isSkeelty's partner. "

"And you're not afraid of him?"

"Why should I be, Mr. West?"

He smiled. 

"I'm justice of the peace here. If there's a hint of trouble from Boglinor Skeelty, come directly to me. "

"Thank you, Mr. West. I will. "

With this he nodded cheerfully and went away. 

CHAPTER XII

MOLLY SIZER'S PARTY

The people of Chazy County were very proud of the _Millville Tribune_, the only daily paper in that section of the state. It was really a verygood newspaper, if small in size, and related the news of the day aspromptly as the great New York journals did. 

Arthur Weldon had not been very enthusiastic about the paper at anytime, although he humored the girls by attending in a good-natured wayto the advertising, hiring some of the country folk to getsubscriptions, and keeping the books. He was a young man of considerableeducation who had inherited a large fortune, safely invested, andtherefore had no need, through financial necessity, to interest himselfin business of any sort. He allowed the girls to print his name aseditor in chief, but he did no editorial work at all, amusing himselfthese delightful summer days by wandering in the woods, where hecollected botanical specimens, or sitting with Uncle John on the lawn, where they read together or played chess. Both the men were glad thegirls were happy in their work and enthusiastic over the success oftheir audacious venture. Beth was developing decided talent as a writerof editorials and her articles were even more thoughtful and dignifiedthan were those of Patsy. The two girls found plenty to occupy them atthe office, while Louise did the reportorial work and flitted throughMillville and down to Huntingdon each day in search of small items oflocal interest. She grew fond of this work, for it brought her close tothe people and enabled her to study their characters and peculiarities. Her manner of approaching the simple country folk was so gracious andwinning that they freely gave her any information they possessed, andchatted with her unreservedly. 

Sometimes Louise would make her rounds alone, but often Arthur wouldjoin her for an afternoon drive to Huntingdon, and it greatly amusedhim to listen to his girl-wife's adroit manner of "pumping the natives. "

About halfway to Huntingdon was the Sizer Farm, the largest and mostimportant in that vicinity. Old Zeke Sizer had a large family--five boysand three girls--and they were noted as quite the most aggressive anddisturbing element in the neighborhood. Old Zeke was rude and coarse andswore like a trooper, so his sons could not be expected to excel him inrefinement. Bill Sizer, the eldest, was a hard drinker, and people whoknew him asserted that he "never drew a sober breath. " The other sonswere all quarrelsome in disposition and many a free fight was indulgedin among them whenever disputes arose. They were industrious farmers, though, and the three girls and their mother worked from morning tillnight, so the farm prospered and the Sizers were reputed to be"well-off. "

Molly, the eldest girl, had attracted Louise, who declared she waspretty enough to arrest attention in any place. Indeed, this girl was a"raving beauty" in her buxom, countrified way, and her good looks werethe pride of the Sizer family and the admiration of the neighbors. Theother two were bouncing, merry girls, rather coarse in manner, as mightbe expected from their environment; but Molly, perhaps fully consciousof her prettiness, assumed certain airs and graces and a regaldeportment that brought even her big, brutal brothers to her feet inadoration. 

The Sizers were among the first subscribers to the _Millville Tribune_and whenever Louise stopped at the farmhouse for news the family wouldcrowd around her, ignoring all duties, and volunteer whateverinformation they possessed. For when they read their own gossip in thelocal column it gave them a sort of proprietary interest in the paper, and Bill had once thrashed a young clerk at Huntingdon for questioningthe truth of an item the Sizers had contributed. 

One day when Louise and Arthur stopped at the farm, Mollie ran out withan eager face to say that Friday was her birthday and the Sizers were togive a grand party to celebrate it. 

"We want you to come over an' write it up, Mrs. Weldon, " said the girl. "They're comin' from twenty mile around, fer the dance, an' we've gotthe orchestry from Malvern to play for us. Pop's goin' to spend a lot ofmoney on refreshments an' it'll be the biggest blow-out Chazy Countyever seen!"

"I think I can write up the party without being present, Mollie, "suggested Louise. 

"No; you come over. I read once, in a novel, how an editor come to aswell party an' writ about all the dresses an' things--said whateverybody wore, you know. I'm goin' to have a new dress, an' ifever'thing's described right well we'll buy a lot of papers to send tofolks we know in Connecticut. "

"Well, " said Louise, with a sigh, "I'll try to drive over for a littlewhile. It is to be Saturday, you say?"

"Yes; the birthday's Friday and the dance Saturday night, rain or shine. An' you might bring the chief editor, your husband, an' try a dance withus. It wouldn't hurt our reputation any to have you folks mingle with uson this festive occasion, " she added airily. 

They had a good laugh over this invitation when it was reported at Mr. Merrick's dinner table, and Patsy insisted that Louise must write upthe party. 

"It will be fun to give it a 'double head' and a big send-off, " shesaid. "Write it up as if it were a real society event, dear, and exhaustyour vocabulary on the gowns. You'll have to invent some Frenchy namesto describe those, I guess, for they'll be wonders; and we'll wind upwith a list of 'those present. '"

So on Saturday evening Arthur drove his wife over to the Sizer farm, andlong before they reached there they heard the scraping of fiddles, mingled with shouts and boisterous laughter. It was a prohibitiondistrict, to be sure, but old Sizer had imported from somewhere outsidethe "dry zone" a quantity of liquors more remarkable for strength thanquality, and with these the guests had been plied from the moment oftheir arrival. Most of them were wholly unused to such libations, so bythe time Arthur and Louise arrived, the big living room of the farmhousepresented an appearance of wild revelry that was quite deplorable. 

Molly welcomed them with wild enthusiasm and big Bill, her adoringbrother, demanded in a loud voice if Arthur did not consider her the"Belle of Chazy County. "

"They ain't a stunner in the state as kin hold a candle to our Molly, "he added, and then with uncertain gait he left the "reporters" with thepromise to "bring 'em a drink. "

"Come, Louise, " said Arthur, quietly, "let's get out of here. "

He drew her to the door and as a dance was just starting they managed toescape without notice. 

"What a disgraceful scene!" cried Louise, when they were on their wayhome; "and to think of such a shocking carousal being held in good oldChazy County, where morals are usually irreproachable! I shall notmention the affair in the _Tribune_ at all. "

But Patsy, who had a managing editor's respect for news of any sort, combatted this determination and begged Louise to write up Molly Sizer'sparty without referring to its deplorable features. 

"It isn't policy to offend the Sizers, " she said, "for although theyare coarse and common they have shown a friendly spirit toward thepaper. Moreover, the enmity of such people--which would surely resultfrom our ignoring the birthday party--would keep us in hot water. "

So Louise, though reluctantly, wrote up the party and the manuscript wassent over to Miss Briggs Sunday afternoon, so it would get a place inMonday morning's _Tribune_. 

Uncle John had the paper at breakfast on Monday, and he gave an amusedlaugh as his eye caught the report of the Sizer party. 

"This is a good one on you, Louise, " he exclaimed. "You say that MissMolly, 'looking more lovely than ever in her handsome new gown, greetedher guests with a roughish smile. '"

"A what?" demanded Louise, horrified. 

"A 'roughish' smile. "

"Oh; that's a mistake, " she said, glancing at the item. "What I said wasa 'roguish' smile; but there's been a typographical error which MissBriggs must have overlooked in reading the proof. "

"Nevertheless, " remarked Arthur, "the statement isn't far wrong. Everything was rough, including the smiles, as far as I noted thatremarkable gathering. "

"But--see here!" cried Patsy; "that's a dreadful mistake. That spoilsall the nice things you said about the girl, Louise. I hope the Sizerswon't notice it. "

But the Sizers did, and were frantic with rage over what they deemed wasa deliberate insult to Molly. Several young men who had come fromdistances to attend the birthday party had stayed over Sunday at thefarmhouse, where the revelry still continued in a fitful way, due tovain attempts to relieve racking headaches by further libations. Mondaymorning found the dissipated crew still the guests of the Sizers, andwhen big Bill slowly spelled out the assertion made by the _Tribune_that his sister had "a roughish smile" loud cries of indignation arose. Molly first cried and then had hysterics and screamed vigorously; Billswore vengeance on the _Millville Tribune_ and all connected with it, while the guests gravely asserted it was "a low-down, measly trick"which the Sizers ought to resent. They all began drinking again, tocalm their feelings, and after the midday dinner Bill Sizer grabbed ahuge cowhide whip and started to Millville to "lick the editor to astandstill. " A wagonload of his guests accompanied him, and Mollypleaded with her brother not to hurt Mrs. Weldon. 

"I won't; but I'll cowhide that fresh husband of hers, " declared Bill. "He's the editor--the paper says so--and he's the one I'm after!"

CHAPTER XIII

BOB WEST INTERFERES

It was unfortunate that at that time Thursday Smith had gone up theelectric line toward Royal, to inspect it. In the office were Patsy, Hetty Hewitt--who was making a drawing--Arthur Weldon, engaged upon hisbooks, and finally, seated in an easy-chair from which he silentlywatched them work, old Bob West, the hardware man. Louise and Beth haddriven over to the Junction to write up an accident, one of the trainmenhaving caught his hand in a coupling, between two freight cars. 

Bob West often dropped into the office, which was next door to his ownplace of business, but he was a silent man and had little to say onthese visits. In his early days he had wandered pretty much over thewhole world, and he could relate some interesting personal adventuresif he chose. In this retired village West was the one inhabitantdistinguished above his fellows for his knowledge of the world. In hisrooms over the store, where few were ever invited, he had a fine libraryof unusual books and a rare collection of curios gathered from foreignlands. It was natural that such a man would be interested in so uniquean experiment as the _Millville Tribune_, and he watched its conductwith curiosity but a constantly growing respect for the three girljournalists. No one ever minded when he came into the office, nodded andsat down. Sometimes he would converse with much freedom; at other timesthe old gentleman remained an hour without offering a remark, and wentaway with a brief parting nod. 

It was West who first saw, through the window, the wagonload of men fromthe Sizer farm come dashing up the street at a gallop. Instinctively, perhaps, he knew trouble was brewing, but he never altered hisexpression or his attitude, even when the wagon stopped at the printingoffice and the passengers leaped out. 

In marched Bill Sizer at the head of his following, cowhide in hand. Patsy, her face flushing scarlet, stood up and faced the intruders. 

"Stand back, girl!" cried Sizer in a fierce tone; "it's that cowardeditor I'm after, " pointing his whip with trembling hand at Arthur. "Mysister Molly may be rough, an' hev a rough smile, but I'll be dinged efI don't skin the man thet prints it in a paper!"

"Good fer you, Bill!" murmured his friends, approvingly. 

Arthur leaned back and regarded his accuser in wonder. The big table, littered with papers, was between them. 

"Come out o' there, ye measly city chap, an' take yer medicine, " roaredBill, swinging his whip. "I'll larn ye to come inter a decentneighborhood an' slander its women. Come outer there!"

West had sat quietly observing the scene. Now he inquired, in composedtones:

"What's the trouble, Bill?"

"Trouble? Trouble, West? Why, this lyin' scroundrel said in his paperthet our Molly had a rough smile. That's the trouble!"

"Did he really say that?" asked West. 

"'Course he did. Printed it in the paper, for all to read. That's whyI've come to cowhide the critter within an inch o' his life!"

"Good fer you, Bill!" cried his friends, encouragingly. 

"But--wait a moment!" commanded West, as the maddened, half drunkenyoung farmer was about to leap over the table to grasp his victim;"you're not going at this thing right, Bill Sizer. "

"Why ain't I, Bob West?"

"Because, " answered West, in calm, even tones, "this insult is too greatto be avenged by a mere cowhiding. Nothing but blood will wipe away thedreadful stain on your sister's character. "

"Oh, Mr. West!" cried Patsy, horrified by such a statement. 

"Eh? Blood?" said Bill, stupefied by the suggestion. 

"Of course, " returned West. "You mustn't thrash Mr. Weldon; you mustkill him. "

A delighted chorus of approval came from Sizer's supporters. 

"All right, then, " said the bully, glaring around, "I--I'll kill thescandler!"

"Hold on!" counselled West, seizing his arm. "This affair must beconducted properly--otherwise the law might cause us trouble. No murder, mind you. You must kill Weldon in a duel. "

"A--a what? A duel!" gasped Sizer. 

"To be sure. That's the way to be revenged. Hetty, " he added, turning tothe artist, who alone of the observers had smiled instead of groaned atthe old gentleman's startling suggestion, "will you kindly run up to myrooms and get a red leather case that lies under the shell cabinet?Thank you, my dear. "

Hetty was off like a flash. During her absence an intense silencepervaded the office, broken only by an occasional hiccough from one ofMr. Sizer's guests. Patsy was paralyzed with horror and had fallen backinto her chair to glare alternately at Bob West and the big bully whothreatened her cousin's husband. Arthur was pale and stern as he fixed areproachful gaze on the hardware merchant. From Miss Briggs' littleroom could be heard the steady click-click of the telegraph instrument. 

But the furious arrival of the Sizer party had aroused every inhabitantof Millville and with one accord they dropped work and rushed to theprinting office. By this time the windows were dark with groups of eagerfaces that peered wonderingly through the screens--the sashes beingup--and listened to the conversation within. 

While Hetty was gone not a word was spoken, but the artist was absentonly a brief time. Presently she reentered and laid the red leather caseon the table before Bob West. The hardware man at once opened it, displaying a pair of old-fashioned dueling pistols, with long barrelsand pearl handles. There was a small can of powder, some bullets andwadding in the case, and as West took up one of the pistols andproceeded to load it he said in an unconcerned voice:

"I once got these from an officer in Vienna, and they have been used inmore than a score of duels, I was told. One of the pistols--I can'ttell which it is--has killed a dozen men, so you are going to fightwith famous weapons. "

Both Arthur and Bill Sizer, as well as the groups at the window, watchedthe loading of the pistols with fascinated gaze. 

"Bob's a queer ol' feller, " whispered Peggy McNutt to the blacksmith, who stood beside him. "This dool is just one o' his odd fancies. Much hekeers ef they kills each other er not!"

"Mr. West, " cried Patsy, suddenly rousing from her apathy, "I'll notallow this shameful thing! A duel is no better than murder, and I'm surethere is a law against it. "

"True, " returned West, ramming the bullet into the second pistol; "it isquite irregular and--er--illegal, I believe. Perhaps I shall go to jailwith whichever of the duelists survives; but you see it is a point ofhonor with us all. Molly Sizer has seemingly been grossly maligned inyour paper, and the editor is responsible. Are you a good shot, Bill?"

"I--I guess so, " stammered Sizer. 

"That's good. Weldon, I hear, is an expert with the pistol. "

Arthur did not contradict this statement, although he was positive hecould not hit a barn at twenty yards. 

"Now, then, are we ready?" staid West, rising. "Come with me, gentlemen. "

"What ye goin' to do, Bob?" asked Sizer, anxiously. 

"I'll explain, " replied the hardware man, leading the way to the street. Everyone followed him and the crowd at the windows joined the groupoutside. "Of course you mustn't shoot in the main street, for you mighthit some one, or break windows; but back of this row of buildings is alane that is perfectly clear. You will stand back to back in the centerof the block and then, at my word, you will each march to the end of theblock and pass around the buildings to the lane. As soon as you come insight of one another you are privileged to fire, and I suppose BillSizer will try to kill you, Mr. Weldon, on the spot, and therefore youwill try to kill him first. "

"But--look a-here, Bob!" cried Sizer; "it ain't right fer him to take ashot at me. You said fer me to kill him, but ye didn't say nuth'n about_his_ shootin' at _me_. "

"That's all right, Bill, " returned West. "You're in the right, and theright ought to win. But you must give the man a chance for his life, youknow. "

"That weren't in the bargain. "

"It is now, by the laws of dueling. "

"He--he might shoot me, " urged Bill. 

"It isn't likely. Although he's a dead shot, you have right on yourside, and you must be sure to fire as soon as you get within good range. It won't be considered murder; it will only be a duel, and the law willdeal lightly with you. "

"That's right, Bill, " asserted one of Sizer's friends. "Bob West's ajustice o' the peace himself, an' he orter know. "

"I do know, " declared West gravely. 

He placed Arthur Weldon and Bill Sizer back to back in the middle of thestreet and handed each a pistol. 

"Now, then, " said he, "you both understand the rules, which I haveexplained, and the spectators will bear witness that, whatever happens, this affair has been conducted in a regular manner, with no favor shownto either. You are both brave men, and this duel will vindicate yourhonor. If you are fortunate enough to survive, you will be heroes, andall your differences will be wiped off the slate. But as one or both mayfall, we, the citizens of Millville, hereby bid you a solemn and sadfarewell. "

Impressed by this speech, Sizer's friends began to shake hands with him. 

"All ready!" called West. "One--two--three----go!"

At the word the two, back to back, started for the opposite ends of thelittle street, and at once the crowd made a rush between the buildingsto gain the rear, where they might witness the shooting in the lane whenthe duelists met. Arthur had been thinking seriously during theseproceedings and had made up his mind it was in no degree his duty to bebored full of holes by a drunken countryman like Bill Sizer, justbecause there had been a typographical error in the _Millville Tribune_. So, when he got to the end of the street, instead of turning into thelane he made for the farm, holding the long dueling pistol gingerly inhis hand and trotting at a good pace for home. 

Footsteps followed him. In sudden panic he increased his run; but theother was faster. A heavy hand grasped his shoulder and swung himaround, while old Bob West, panting for Breath, exclaimed:

"Stop, you fool--stop! The other one is running. "

"The other one!" echoed Arthur, wonderingly. 

"Of course. Bill Sizer was sure to run; he's a coward, as all bulliesare. Quick, Weldon, save the day and your reputation or I'll never standyour friend again. "

Arthur understood now. He turned and ran back faster than he had come, swung into the lane where the crowd was cautiously peering from theshelter of the buildings, and waving his pistol in a reckless way thatmade Bob West shudder, he cried out:

"Where is he? Where's Sizer? Why don't he show up and be shot, like aman?"

No Sizer appeared. He was even then headed cross-lots for home, leavinghis friends to bemoan his cowardice. As for Arthur, the crowd gave him acheer and condemned his opponent's conduct in no measured terms. Theywere terribly disappointed by Big Bill's defection, for while notespecially bloodthirsty they hated to see the impending tragedy turn outa farce. 

In the printing office Patsy was laughing hysterically as her horrordissolved and allowed her to discover the comic phase of the duel. Sheliterally fell on Arthur's neck as he entered, but the next momentpushed him away to face the hardware merchant. 

"I beg your pardon, Mr. West, " said she with twinkling eyes. "Isuspected you of being a cold-blooded ruffian, when you proposed thisduel; but I now see that you understand human nature better than thewhole caboodle of us put together! Arthur, thank Mr. West for saving youfrom a flogging. "

"I do, indeed!" said Arthur fervently. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE DANGER SIGNAL

By this time the _Tribune_ had become the pride of all Millville, yetthe villagers could not quite overcome their awe and wonder at it. Alsothe newspaper was the pride of the three girl journalists, who under thetutelage of Miss Briggs were learning to understand the complicatedsystem of a daily journal. Their amateurish efforts were graduallygiving way to more dignified and readable articles; Beth could write aneditorial that interested even Uncle John, her severest critic; Louiseshowed exceptional talent for picking up local happenings and makingnews notes of them, while Patsy grabbed everything that came to hernet--locals, editorials, telegraphic and telephone reports from allparts of the world--and skillfully sorted, edited and arranged them forthe various departments of the paper. It was mighty interesting to themall, and they were so eager each morning to get to work that they couldscarcely devote the proper time to old Nora's famous breakfasts. 

"We made a mistake. Uncle, " said Patsy to Mr. Merrick, "in starting the_Tribune_ in the wrong place. In a few weeks we must leave it and goback to the city, whereas, had we established our paper in New York--"

"Then it never would have been heard of, " interrupted practical Beth. "In New York, Patsy dear, we would become the laughing stock of thetown. I shudder when I think what a countrified paper we turned out thatfirst issue. "

"But we are fast becoming educated, " declared Patsy. "I'm not ashamed ofthe _Tribune_ now, even in comparison with the best New York dailies. "

Beth laughed, but Uncle John said judicially:

"For Millville, it's certainly a marvel. I get the world news moreconcisely and more pleasantly from its four pages than when I wadethrough twenty or thirty of the big pages of a metropolitan newspaper. You are doing famously, my dears. I congratulate you. "

"But we are running behind dreadfully, " suggested Arthur, thebookkeeper, "even since Thursday Smith enabled us to cut down expensesso greatly. The money that comes in never equals what we pay out. Howlong can you keep this up, girls?"

They made no reply, nor did Uncle John discuss the financial conditionof the newspaper. He was himself paying some heavy expenses that did notappear on the books, such as the Associated Press franchise, thetelegraph bills and the electric power; but he was quite delighted totake care of these items and regretted he had not assumed more of thepaper's obligations. He knew the expenses were eating big holes in theincomes of his three nieces, yet they never complained nor allowed theirenthusiasm to flag. 

Mr. Merrick, who had tested these girls in more ways than one, waswatching them carefully, and fully approved their spirit and courageunder such trying conditions. Major Doyle, Patsy's father, when thefirst copy of the _Millville Tribune_ was laid on his desk in the city, was astounded at the audacity of this rash venture. When he couldcommand his temper to write calmly he sent a letter to Mr. Merrick whichread: "Taken altogether, John, you're the craziest bunch ofirresponsibles outside an asylum. No wonder you kept this folly a secretfrom me until you had accomplished your nefarious designs. The_Millville Daily Tribune_ is a corker and no mistake, for our Patsy's atthe head of your lunatic gang. I'll go farther, and say the paper's awonder. I believe it is the first daily newspaper published in a town ofsix inhabitants, that has ever carried the Associated Press dispatches, But, allow me to ask, why? The lonely inhabitants of the desert of ChazyCounty don't need a daily--or a weekly--or a monthly. A semi-annualwould about hit their gait, and be more than they deserve. So I'vedecided it's merely a silly way to spend money--and an easy way, too, I'll be bound. Oblige me by explaining this incomprehensibleeccentricity. "

To this, a mild protest for the major, Uncle John replied: "Dear MajorDoyle: Yours received. Have you no business of your own to attend to?Affectionately yours, John Merrick. "

The major took the hint. He made no further complaint but read the paperreligiously every day, gloating over Patsy's name as managing editor andpreserving the files with great care. He really enjoyed, the _MillvilleTribune_, and as his summer vacation was shortly due he anticipated withpleasure a visit to the farm and a peep at the workings of "our Patsy's"famous newspaper. The other girls he ignored. If Patsy was connectedwith the thing, her adoring parent was quite sure she was responsiblefor all the good there was in it. 

The paper printed no mention of the famous duel. But Hetty made acartoon of it, showing the lane, with its fringe of spectators, ArthurWeldon standing manfully to await his antagonist and big Bill Sizer, inthe distance, sprinting across the fields in the direction of home. Thiscartoon was highly prized by those who had witnessed the adventure andPeggy McNutt pinned it on the wall of his real estate office beside theone Hetty had made of himself. Bill Sizer promptly "stopped the paper, "that being the only vengeance at hand, and when Bob West sent a boy tohim demanding the return of the pistol, Bill dispatched with the weaponthe following characteristic note, which he had penned with much labor:

"Bob west sir you Beet me out uv my Reeveng and Made me look like a baguv Beens. But I will skware this Thing sum da and yu and that edyter hedbetter Watch out. I don't stand fer no Throwdown like that Wm. Sizer. "

However, the bully received scant sympathy, even from his most intimatefriends, and his prestige in the community was henceforth destroyed. Arthur did not crow, for his part. He told the girls frankly of hisattempt to run away and evade the meeting, which sensible intention wasonly frustrated by Bob West's interference, and they all agreed he wasthoroughly justified. The young man had proved to them his courage yearsbefore and none of the girls was disposed to accuse him of cowardice fornot wishing to shoot or be shot by such a person as Bill Sizer. 

A few days following the duel another incident occurred which was of anature so startling that it drove the Sizer comedy from all minds. Thistime Thursday Smith was the hero. 

Hetty Hewitt, it seems, was having a desperate struggle to quell thelongings of her heart for the allurements of the great city. She hadbeen for years a thorough Bohemienne, frequenting cafes, theatres anddance halls, smoking and drinking with men and women of her class and, by degrees, losing every womanly quality with which nature hadgenerously endowed her. But the girl was not really bad. She wasessentially nervous and craved excitement, so she had drifted into thissort of life because no counteracting influence of good had beeninjected into her pliable disposition. None, that is, until the friendlyeditor for whom she worked, anticipating her final downfall, had soughtto save her by sending her to a country newspaper. He talked to the girlartist very frankly before she left for Millville, and Hetty knew he wasright, and was truly grateful for the opportunity to redeem herself. Thesweet girl journalists with whom she was thrown in contact were sodifferent from any young women she had heretofore known, and proved sokindly sympathetic, that Hetty speedily became ashamed of her wastedlife and formed a brave resolution to merit the friendship so generouslyextended her. 

But it was hard work at first. She could get through the days easilyenough by wandering in the woods and taking long walks along the ruggedcountry roads; but in the evenings came the insistent call of the cafes, the cheap orchestras, vaudeville, midnight suppers and the like. Shestrenuously fought this yearning and found it was growing less and lesspowerful to influence her. But her nights were yet restless and hernerves throbbing from the effects of past dissipations. Often she wouldfind herself unable to sleep and would go out into the moonlight whenall others were in bed, and "prowl around with the cats, " as sheexpressed it, until the wee hours of morning. Often she told Patsy shewished there was more work she could do. The drawings required by thepaper never occupied her more than a couple of hours each day. Sometimes she made one of her cleverest cartoons in fifteen or twentyminutes. 

"Can't I do something else?" she begged. "Let me set type, or run theticker--I can receive telegrams fairly well--or even write a column oflocal comment. I'm no journalist, so you'll not be envious. "

But Patsy shook her head. 

"Really, Hetty, there's nothing else you can do, and your pictures arevery important to us. Rest and enjoy yourself, and get strong and well. You are improving wonderfully in health since you came here. "

Often at midnight Hetty would wander into the pressroom and watchThursday Smith run off the edition on the wonderful press, which seemedto possess an intelligence of its own, so perfectly did it perform itsfunctions. At such times she sat listlessly by and said little, forThursday was no voluble talker, especially when busied over his press. But a certain spirit of comradeship grew up between these two, and itwas not unusual for the pressmen, after his work was finished and thepapers were neatly piled for distribution to the carriers at daybreak, to walk with Hetty to the hotel before proceeding to his own lodgings inthe little wing of Nick Thorne's house, which stood quite at the end ofthe street. To be sure, the hotel adjoined the printing office, withonly a vacant lot between, but Hetty seemed to appreciate this courtesyand would exchange a brief good night with Smith before going to her ownroom. Afterward she not infrequently stole out again, because sleepwould not come to her, and then the moon watched her wanderings until itdipped behind the hills. 

On the night we speak of, Hetty had parted from Thursday Smith at oneo'clock and crept into the hallway of the silent, barnlike hotel; but assoon as the man turned away she issued forth again and walked up theempty street like a shadow. Almost to Thompson's Crossing she strolled, deep in thought, and then turned and retraced her steps. But when sheagain reached the hotel she was wide-eyed as ever; so she passed thebuilding, thinking she would go on to Little Bill Creek and sit by theold mill for a time. 

The girl was just opposite the printing office when her attention wasattracted by a queer grating noise, as if one of the windows was beingpried up. She stopped short, a moment, and then crept closer to thebuilding. Two men were at a side window of the pressroom, which they hadjust succeeded in opening. As Hetty gained her point of observation oneof the men slipped inside, but a moment later hastily reappeared andjoined his fellow. At once both turned and stole along the side of theshed directly toward the place where the girl stood. Her first impulsewas to run, but recollecting that she wore a dark gown and stood in deepshadow she merely flattened herself against the building and remainedmotionless. The men were chuckling as they passed her, and sherecognized them as mill hands from Royal. 

"Guess that'll do the job, " said one, in a low tone. 

"If it don't, nothin' will, " was the reply. 

They were gone, then, stealing across the road and beating a hastyretreat under the shadows of the houses. 

Hetty stood motionless a moment, wondering what to do. Then with suddenresolve she ran to Thorne's house and rapped sharply at the window ofthe wing where she knew Thursday Smith slept. She heard him leap frombed and open the blind. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"It's me, Thursday--Hetty, " she said. "Two men have just broken into thepressroom, through a window. They were men from Royal, and they didn'tsteal anything, but ran away in great haste. I--I'm afraid something iswrong, Thursday!"

Even while she spoke he was rapidly dressing. 

"Wait!" he called to her. In a few moments he opened the door and joinedher. 

Without hesitation he began walking rapidly toward the office, and thegirl kept step with him. He asked no questions whatever, but us soon asshe had led him to the open window he leaped through it and switched onan electric light. An instant later he cried aloud, in a voice of fear:

"Get out, Hetty! Run--for your life!"

"Run yourself, Thursday, if there's danger, " she coolly returned. 

But he shouted "Run--run--run!" in such thrilling, compelling tonesthat the girl shrank away and dashed across the vacant lot to the hotelbefore she turned again in time to see Smith leap from the window andmake a dash toward the rear. He was carrying something--somethingextended at arms' length before him--and he crossed the lane and ran farinto the field before stooping to set down his burden. 

Now he was racing back again, running as madly as if a troop of demonswas after him. A flash cleft the darkness; a deep detonation thunderedand echoed against the hills; the building against which Hetty leanedshook as if an earthquake had seized it, and Thursday Smith was thrownflat on his face and rolled almost to the terrified girl's feet, wherehe lay motionless. Only the building saved her from pitching headlongtoo, but as the reverberations died away, to be followed by franticscreams from the rudely wakened population of Millville, Hetty sank uponher knees and turned the man over, so that he lay face up. 

He opened his eyes and put up one hand. Then he struggled to his feet, trembling weakly, and his white face smiled into the girl's anxious one. 

"That was a close call, dear, " he whispered; "but your timely discoverysaved us from a terrible calamity. I--I don't believe there is much harmdone, as it is. "

Hetty made no reply. She was thinking of the moments he had held thatdeadly Thing in his hands, while he strove to save lives and propertyfrom destruction. 

The inevitable crowd was gathering now, demanding in terrified toneswhat had happened. Men, women and children poured from the houses inscant attire, all unnerved and fearful, crying for an explanation of theexplosion. 

"Keep mum, Hetty, " said Smith, warningly. "It will do no good to tellthem the truth. "

She nodded, realizing it was best the villagers did not suspect that anenemy of the newspaper had placed them all in dire peril. 

"Dynamite?" she asked in a whisper. 

"Yes; a bomb. But for heaven's sake don't mention it. "

Suddenly a man with a lantern discovered a great pit in the fieldbehind the lane and the crowd quickly surrounded it. From their limitedknowledge of the facts the explosion seemed unaccountable, but there wassufficient intelligence among them to determine that dynamite had causedit and dug this gaping hole in the stony soil. Bob West glanced at theprinting office, which was directly in line with the explosion; then hecast a shrewd look into the white face of Thursday Smith; but the oldhardware merchant merely muttered under his breath something about OjoyBoglin and shook his head determinedly when questioned by his fellowvillagers. 

Interest presently centered in the damage that had been done. Manywindow panes were shattered and the kitchen chimney of the hotel hadtoppled over; but no person had been injured and the damage could easilybe repaired. While the excitement was at its height Thursday Smithreturned to his room and went to bed; but long after the villagers hadcalmed down sufficiently to seek their homes Hetty Hewitt sat alone bythe great pit, staring reflectively into its ragged depths. Quaint andcurious were the thoughts that puzzled the solitary girl's weary brain, but prominent and ever-recurring was the sentence that had trembled uponThursday Smith's lips: "It was a close call, _dear_!"

The "close call" didn't worry Hetty a particle; it was the last word ofthe sentence that amazed her. That, and a new and wonderful respect forthe manliness of Thursday Smith, filled her heart to overflowing. 

CHAPTER XV

A CLEVER IDEA

Neither Thursday nor Hetty allowed a word to escape concerning theplacing of the bomb in the _Tribune_ office, but the explosion waspublic knowledge and many were bothering their heads to explain itsmeaning. 

John Merrick, when he heard the news, looked very grave and glanceduneasily into the unconscious faces of his three beloved nieces. A manof much worldly experience, in spite of his simple, ingenuous nature, the little man began carefully piecing together parts of the puzzle. Thursday Smith's defense of the girl journalists, whereby he hadseverely pounded some of the workmen who had insulted them, had causedthe man to be denounced by the colony at Royal. Mr. Skeelty, themanager, had demanded that Smith be discharged by Mr. Mirrick, andbeing refused, had threatened to shut off the power from the newspaperplant. Skeelty dared not carry out this threat, for fear of a lawsuit, but his men, who had urged the matter of Smith's discharge upon theirmanager, were of the class that seeks revenge at any cost. At thisjuncture Ojoy Boglin, Skeelty's partner and the owner of all the pineforest around Royal, had become the enemy of the newspaper and was awareof the feeling among the workmen. A word from Boglin, backed bySkeelty's tacit consent, would induce the men to go to any length ininjuring the _Millville Tribune_ and all concerned in its welfare. 

Considering these facts, Mr. Merrick shrewdly suspected that thedynamite explosion had been the work of the mill hands, yet why it washarmlessly exploded in a field was a factor that puzzled himexceedingly. He concluded, from what information he possessed, that theyhad merely intended this as a warning, which if disregarded might befollowed by a more serious catastrophe. 

The idea that such a danger threatened his nieces made the oldgentleman distinctly nervous. 

There were ways to evade further molestation from the lawless element atthe mill. The Hon. Ojoy could be conciliated; Thursday Smith discharged;or the girls could abandon their journalistic enterprise altogether. Such alternatives were mortifying to consider, but his girls must beprotected from harm at any cost. 

While he was still considering the problem, the girls and Arthur havingdriven to the office, as usual, Joe Wegg rode over from Thompson'sCrossing on his sorrel mare for a chat with his old friend andbenefactor. It was this same young man--still a boy in years--who hadonce owned the Wegg Farm and disposed of it to Mr. Merrick. 

Joe was something of a mechanical genius and, when his father died, longed to make his way in the great world. But after many vicissitudesand failures he returned to Chazy County to marry Ethel Thompson, hisboyhood sweetheart, and to find that one of his father's apparentlyfoolish investments had made him rich. 

Ethel was the great-granddaughter of the pioneer settler of ChazyCounty--Little Bill Thompson--from whom the Little Bill Creek and LittleBill Mountain had been named. It was he who first established the millat Millville; so, in marrying a descendant of Little Bill Thompson, JoeWegg had become quite the most important resident of Chazy County, andthe young man was popular and well liked by all who knew him. 

After the first interchange of greetings Joe questioned Mr. Merrickabout the explosion of the night before, and Uncle John frankly statedhis suspicions. 

"I'm sorry, " said Joe, "they ever started that mill at Royal Falls. Mostof the workmen are foreigners, and all of them rude and reckless. Theyhave caused our quiet, law-abiding people no end of trouble and anxietyalready. It is becoming a habit with them to haunt Millville on Saturdaynights, when they are partly intoxicated, and they've even invaded someof the farmhouses and frightened the women and children. I've talked toBob West about it and he has promised to swear in Lon Taft and SethDavis as special constables, to preserve order; but he admits we arequite helpless to oppose such a gang of rowdies. I've also been to seeMr. Skeelty, to ask him to keep his men at home, but he answered grufflythat he had no authority over his employees except during working hours, and not much authority even then. "

"Skeelty doesn't seem the right man to handle those fellows, " observedMr. Merrick thoughtfully; "but as he owns the controlling interest inhis company, and Boglin is fully as unreasonable, we cannot possiblyoust him from control. If the men determined to blow up all Millvillewith dynamite I'm sure Skeelty would not lift a finger to prevent it. "

"No; he's deathly afraid of them, and that's a fact, " said Joe. 

They sat in silence a while. 

"Your report of Skeelty's threat to cut off your electric power, " saidyoung Wegg, "reminds me of a plan I've had in mind for some time. I findI've too much time on my hands, Mr. Merrick, and I cannot be thoroughlyhappy unless I'm occupied. Ethel's farms are let on shares and I'm adrone in the world's busy hive. But we're anchored here at Millville, soI've been wondering what I could do to improve the place and keep myselfbusy. It has seemed to me that the same rush of water in Little BillCreek that runs the dynamos at Royal is in evidence--to a lesserextent--at the old milldam. What would you think of my putting in anelectric plant at the mill, and lighting both Millville and Huntingdon, as well as all the farmhouses?"

"Not a bad idea, Joe, " said Uncle John approvingly. 

"Electric lights have a civilizing influence, " continued the young man. "I'm quite sure all the farmers between here and Huntingdon would usethem, at a reasonable price. I can also run a line to Hooker's Falls, and one to Chazy Junction. Plenty of poles can be cut from our pineforests and the wires will be the chief expense. I may not make money, at first, but I'll play pretty nearly even and have something to do. "

"Do you think you could furnish enough power for our printing office?"asked Mr. Merrick. 

"Yes; and a dozen factories, besides. I've an idea the thing may bringfactories to Millville. "

"Then get at it, Joe, and build it quick. I've a notion we shall have anopen rupture with Skeelty before long. "

Joe Wegg smiled. 

"You're going to accuse me, sir, of asking advice after I've made up mymind, " said he; "but the fact is, I have bought the mill of SilasCaldwell already. He's been wanting to dispose of the property for sometime. "

"Good!" exclaimed Uncle John. 

"Also I--I've ordered a dynamo and machinery. It all ought to be here ina few days. "

"Better yet!" cried Mr. Merrick. "You've relieved my mind of a greatweight, Joe. "

"Now about Thursday Smith, " said the young man. "Don't you think itwould be policy for you to let him go, Mr. Merrick?"

"No. "

"He's a clever fellow. I can use him at my lighting plant. "

"Thank you, Joe; but that wouldn't help any. As long as he's inMillville he will be an object of vengeance to those anarchistic millhands. The only way to satisfy them in to drive Smith out of town, and--I'll be hanged if I'll do it! He hasn't done anything wrong, andI'm interested in the fellow's curious history. I've put his case in thehands of a famous New York detective--Fogerty--with instructions todiscover who he is, and I can't let a lot of rowdies force me to abandonthe man for no reasonable cause. "

"Don't blame you, sir, " said Joe. "If it wasn't this Thursday Smith, some other would incur the hatred of the Royal workmen, and as they'redisposed to terrorize us we may as well fight it out on this line as anyother. The whole county will stand by you, sir. "

"The only thing I dread is possible danger to my girls. "

"Keep 'em away from the office evenings, " advised Joe. "During the daythey are perfectly safe. If anything happens, it will be at night, andwhile the newspaper office may some time go flying skyward the girlswill run no personal danger whatever. "

"Maybe so, Joe. How queer it is that such a condition should exist inMillville--a little forgotten spot in the very heart of civilization andthe last place where one might expect excitement of this sort. But Iwon't be cowed; I won't be driven or bullied by a pack of foreignhounds, I assure you! If Skeelty can't discipline his men, I will. "

In furtherance of which assertion, Mr. Merrick went to town and wired amessage to the great Fogerty. 

CHAPTER XVI

LOCAL CONTRIBUTION

We hear considerable of the "conventional people" of this world, butseldom meet with them; for, as soon as we begin to know a person, wediscover peculiarities that quite remove him from the ranks of theconventional--if such ranks exist at all. The remark of the old Scotchdivine to his good wife: "Everybody's queer but thee and me, Nancy, andsometimes I think _thee_ a little queer, " sums up human natureadmirably. We seldom recognize our own queerness, but are prone to markthe erratic temperaments of others, and this is rather more comfortablethan to be annoyed by a consciousness of our personal deficits. 

The inhabitants of a country town are so limited in their experiencesthat we generally find their personal characteristics very amusing. Noamount of scholastic learning could have rendered the Millville peoplesophisticated, for contact with the world and humanity is the only trueeducator; but, as a matter of fact, there was little scholastic learningamong them, with one or two exceptions, and the villagers as a rule wereof limited intelligence. Every one was really a "character, " and UncleJohn's nieces, who all possessed a keen sense of humor, enjoyed theoddities of the Millvillites immensely. 

A humorous situation occurred through a seemingly innocent editorial ofBeth on authorship. In the course of her remarks she said: "A prominentauthor is stated to have accumulated a large fortune by writing shortstories for the newspapers and magazines. He is said to receive tencents a word, and this unusual price is warranted by the eager demandfor his stories, of which the reading public is very fond. However, theunknown author does not fare so badly. The sum of from thirty to fiftydollars usually remitted for a short story pays the beginner a betterrecompense, for the actual time he is engaged upon the work, than anyother occupation he might undertake. "

This was seriously considered the morning it appeared in the _Tribune_by Peggy McNutt and Skim Clark, as they sat in the sunshine on theformer's little front porch. Peggy had read it aloud in his laborious, halting way, and Skim listened with growing amazement. 

"Thirty dollars!" he cried; "thirty to fifty fer a short story! GreatSnakes, Peggy, I'm goin' into it. "

"Heh? Goin' into what?" asked Peggy, raising his eyes from the paper. 

"I kin write a story, " declared Skim confidently. 

"Ye kin, Skim?"

"It's a cinch, Peggy. Mother keeps all the magazines an' paper novils, an' we allus reads 'em afore we sells 'em. I've read the gol-durndestlot o' truck ye ever heard of, so I'm posted on stories in gen'ral. I'llwrite one an' sell it to the _Millville Tribune_. Do ye s'pose they'llgive me the thirty, er the fifty, Peggy?"

"Anywheres between, they says. But one feller gits ten cents a word. Whew!"

"I know; but he's a big one, which I ain't--just now. I'll take even thethirty, if I hev to. "

"I would, Skim, " advised Peggy, nodding approval. "But make 'em put yerphotygraf in the paper, besides. Say, it'll be a big thing fer Millvilleto turn out a author. I didn't think it were in you, Skim. "

"Why, it hadn't struck me afore, " replied the youth, modestly. "I've benhankerin' to make money, without knowin' how to do it. I tell ye, Peggy, it pays to read the newspapers. This one's give me a hint how to carveout a future career, an' I'll write a story as'll make them girl edytursset up an' take notice. "

"Make it someth'n' 'bout Injuns, " suggested Peggy. "I ain't read a Injunstory fer years. "

"No; they're out o' fashion, " observed Skim loftily. "What folks wantnow is a detective story. Feller sees a hole in a fence an' says, 'Ha!there's ben a murder!' Somebody asks what makes him think so, an' thedetective feller says, takin' out a magnifie-in' glass, 'Thet hole's abullet-hole, an' the traces o' blood aroun' the edges shows the bulletwent through a human body afore it went through the fence. ' 'Then, ' sayssome one, 'where's the body?' 'That, ' says the detective, 'is what wemus' diskiver. ' So the story goes on to show how the body werediskivered an' who did the murderin'. "

"By Jupe, thet's great!" cried Peggy admiringly. "Skim, ye're a wonder!"

"Ma allus said I were good fer somethin', but she couldn't tell what. "

"It's story-writin', " declared Peggy "Say, Skim, I put ye onter thisdeal; don't I git a rake-off on thet fifty dollars?"

"Not a cent!" said Skim indignantly. "Ye didn't tell me to write astory; I said myself as I could do it. An' I know where to use themoney, Peggy, ev'ry dollar of it, whether it's thirty er fifty. "

Peggy sighed. 

"I writ a pome once, " he said. "Wonder ef they'd pay fer a pome?"

"What were it like?" asked Skim curiously. 

"It went someth'n' this way, " said Peggy:

 "I sigh Ter fly Up high In the sky. But my Wings is shy, So I mus' cry Good-bye Ter fly- in'. "

"Shoo!" said Skim disdainfully. "Thet ain't no real pome, Peggy. "

"It makes rhymes, don't it? All but the las' line. "

"Mebbe it does, " replied Skim, with assumption of superior wisdom; "butit don't mean nuth'n'. "

"It would ef I got paid fer it, " observed Peggy. 

Skim went home to his mother's tiny "Emporium, " took some note paper outof stock, opened a new bottle of ink and sat down at the sitting roomtable to write his story. The Widow Clark looked in and asked what hemeant by "squanderin' profits that way. "

"Shet up, mar. Gi' me elbow room, " said her dutiful son. "I'm writin' afifty dollar story fer the _Tribune_. "

"Fifty dollars!"

"Thirty, anyhow; mebbe fifty, " replied Skim. "What's a good name fer adetective, mar?"

The widow sat down and wiped her damp hands on her apron, looking uponher hopeful with an expression of mingled awe and pride. 

"Kin ye do it, Skim?" she asked softly. 

"I s'pose I kin turn out one a day, by hard work, " he said confidently. "At thirty a day, the lowes' price, thet's a hunderd 'n' eighty a week, seven hunderd 'n' twenty a month, or over eight thousan' dollars a year. I got it all figgered out. It's lucky fer me the nabobs is rich, or theycouldn't stan' the strain. Now, mar, ef ye want to see yer son a nabobhisself, some day, jes' think up a good name fer a detective. "

"Sherholmes Locke, " she said after some reflection. 

"No; this 'ere story's got ter be original. I thought o' callin' himSuspectin' Algernon. Detectives is allus suspectin' something. "

"Algernon's high-toned, " mused the widow. "Let it go at that, Skim. "

All that day and far into the evening he sat at his task, pausing nowand then for inspiration, but most of the time diligently pushing hispen over the strongly lined note paper and hopelessly straying from thelines. Meantime, Mrs. Clark walked around on tiptoe, so as not todisturb him, and was reluctant even to call him to his meals in thekitchen. When Skim went to bed his story had got into an aggravatingmuddle, but during the next forenoon he managed to bring it to atriumphant ending. 

"When I git used to the thing, mar, " he said, "I kin do one a day, easy. I had to be pertickler over this one, it bein' the first. "

The widow read the story carefully, guessing at the words that werehopelessly indistinct. 

"My! but it's a thriller, Skim, " she said with maternal enthusiasm; "butye don't say why he killed the girl. "

"That don't matter, so long's he did it. "

"The spellin' don't allus seem quite right, " she added doubtfully. 

"I guess the spellin's as good as the readin'll be, " he retorted, withevident irritation. "I bet I spell as well as any o' the folks thettakes the paper. "

"And some words I can't make out. "

"Oh, the edytur'll fix that. Say, air ye tryin' to queer my story, mar?Do ye set up to know more'n I do about story writin'?"

"No, " she said; "I ain't talented, Skim, an' you be. "

"What I orter hev, " he continued, reflectively, "is a typewriter. When Igit two er three hunderd ahead perhaps I'll buy one--secondhand. "

"Kin ye buy one thet'll spell, Skim?" she asked, as she made a neat rollof the manuscript and tied a pink hair ribbon around it. 

Skim put on a collar and necktie and took his story across to thenewspaper office. 

"I got a conter-bution fer the paper, " he said to Patsy, who asked himhis business. 

"What, something original, Skim?" she asked in surprise. 

"Ye've hit it right, Miss Doyle; it's a story. "

"Oh!"

"A detective story. "

"Dear me! Then you'll have to see Mrs. Weldon, who is our literaryeditor. "

Louise, who was sitting close by, looked up and held out her hand forthe beribboned roll. 

"I don't jes' know, " remarked Skim, as he handed it across the table, "whether it's a thirty dollar deal, er a fifty. "

Having forgotten Beth's editorial, Louise did not understand thisremark, but she calmly unrolled Skim's manuscript and glanced at thescrawled heading with an amused smile. 

"'Suspecting Algernon, '" she read aloud. 

"'It were a dark and teedjus night in the erly springtime while the snowwere falling soft over the moon litt lanskape. ' Why, Skim, how came youto write this?"

"It were the money, " he said boldly. "I kin do one a day like this, atthirty dollers apiece, an' never feel the wear an' tear. "

Patsy giggled, but Louise stared with a wondering, puzzled expression atthe crabbed writing, the misspelled words and dreadful grammar. Indeed, she was a little embarrassed how to handle so delicate a situation. 

"I'm afraid we cannot use your story, Mr. Clark, " she said gently, andremembering the formula that usually accompanied her own rejectedmanuscripts she added: "This does not necessarily imply a lack of meritin your contribution, but is due to the fact that it is at presentunavailable for our use. "

Skim stared at her in utter dismay. 

"Ye mean ye won't take it?" he asked with trembling lips. 

"We have so much material on hand, just now, that we cannot possiblypurchase more, " she said firmly, but feeling intensely sorry for theboy. "It may be a good story--"

"It's the bes' story I ever heard of!" declared Skim. 

"But we have no place for it in the _Millville Tribune, _" she added, handing him back the roll. 

Skim was terribly disappointed. Never, for a single moment, had heexpected "sech a throwdown as this. "

"Seems to me like a bunco game, " he muttered savagely. "First ye say inyer blamed ol' paper a story's wuth thirty to fifty dollars, an' thenwhen I bring ye a story ye won't pay a red cent fer it!"

"Stories, " suggested Louise, "are of various qualities, depending on theexperience and talent of the author. An excellent story is often refusedbecause the periodical to which it is offered is overstocked withsimilar material. Such conditions are often trying, Skim; I've had agood many manuscripts rejected myself. "

But the boy would not be conciliated. 

"I'll send it to Munsey's, thet's what I'll do; an' then you'll be durnsorry, " he said, almost ready to cry. 

"Do, " urged Louise sweetly. "And if they print it, Mr. Clark, I'll agreeto purchase your next story for fifty dollars. "

"All right; the fifty's mine. I got witnesses, mind ye!" and he flouncedout of the room like an angry schoolboy. 

"Oh, Louise, " exclaimed Patsy, reproachfully, "why didn't you let mesee the thing? It would have been better than a circus. "

"Poor boy!" said the literary editor, with a sigh. "I didn't want tohumiliate him more than I could help. I wonder if he really will havethe audacity to send it to Munsey's?"

And now the door opened to admit Peggy McNutt, who had been watching hischance to stump across to the printing office as soon as Skim leftthere. For Peggy had reasoned, not unjustly, that if Skim Clark couldmake a fortune as an author he, Marshall McMahon McNutt, had a show tocorral a few dollars in literature himself. After lying awake half thenight thinking it over, he arose this morning with the firm intention ofcompeting with Skim for the village laurels. He well knew he could notwrite a shuddery detective story, such as Skim had outlined, but thatearly poem of his, which the boy had seemed to regard so disdainfully, was considered by Peggy a rather clever production. He repeated it overand over to himself, dwelling joyously on its perfect rhyme, until hewas convinced it was a good poem and that Skim had enviously slanderedit. So he wrote it out in big letters on a sheet of foolscap anddetermined to offer it to "them newspaper gals. "

"I got a pome, Miss Patsy, " he said, with unusual diffidence, for he wasby no means sure the "gals" would not agree with Skim's criticism. 

"What! Another contributor?" she exclaimed playfully. "Has the wholetown suddenly turned literary, Peggy?"

"No; jest me 'n' Skim. Skim says my pome's no good; but I sort o' likeit, myself. "

"Let me see it, " said Patsy, ignoring this time the literary editor, whowas glad to be relieved of the responsibility of disappointing anotherbudding author. 

Peggy handed over the foolscap, and Patsy eagerly read the "pome. "

"Listen, Louise! Listen, Beth!" she called, delightedly. "Here iscertainly a real 'pome, ' and on aviation--the latest fad:

 "'SKY HIGH BY MARSHALL MCMAHON MCNUTT of Millville dealer in Real Estate Spring Chickens &c. 

 1. I sigh Too fly Up high In the sky. 

 2. But my Wings air shy And so I cry A sad goodby Too fly- Ing. '"

A chorus of hilarious laughter followed the reading, and then Patsywiped her eyes and exclaimed:

"Peggy, you are not only a poet but a humorist. This is one of the bestshort poems I ever read. "

"It's short 'cause I run out o' rhymes, " admitted Peggy. 

"But it's a gem, what there is of it. "

"Don't, dear, " remonstrated Louise; "don't poke fun at the poor man. "

"Poke fun? Why, I'm going to print that poem in the _Tribune_, as sureas my name's Patricia Doyle! It's too good for oblivion. "

"I dunno, " remarked Peggy, uncertainly, "whether it's wuth fiftydollars, er about--"

"About forty-nine less, " said Patsy. "A poem of that length brings aboutfifty cents in open market, but I'll be liberal. You shall have a wholedollar--and there it is, solid cash. "

"Thank ye, " returned Peggy, pocketing the silver. "It ain't what Iexpected, but--"

"But what, sir?"

"But it's like findin' it, for I didn't expect nuth'n'. I wish I coulddo more of 'em at the same price; but I did thet pome when I were youngan' hed more ambition. I couldn't think of another like it to save myneck. "

"I am glad of that, Peggy. One of this kind is all a paper dare print. We mustn't get too popular, you know. "

"I s'pose you'll print my name as the one what did it?" he inquiredanxiously. 

"I shall print it just as it's written, advertisement and all. "

She did, and Peggy bought two extra copies, at a cent apiece. He framedall three and hung one in his office, one in the sitting room and athird in his bedroom, where he could see it the first thing when hewakened each morning. His fellow villagers were very proud of him, inspite of the "knocking" of the Clarks. Skim was deeply mortified thatPeggy's "bum pome" had been accepted and his own masterly composition"turned down cold. " The widow backed her son and told all the neighborsthat "Peggy never hed the brains to write thet pome, an' the chances airhe stole it from the 'Malvern Weekly Journal. ' Them gal edyturs wouldn'tknow, " she added scornfully; "they's as ignerunt as Peggy is, mostly. "

A few days later McNutt entered the printing office with an air of greatimportance. 

"Goodness me! I hope you haven't done it again, Peggy, " cried Patsy, inalarm. 

"No; I got fame enough. What I want is to hev the wordin' on my businesscards changed, " said he. "What'll it cost?"

"What change do you wish made?" asked Patsy, examining the sample card. 

"Instead of 'Marshall McMahon McNutt, dealer in Real Estate an' SpringChickens, ' I want to make it read: 'dealer in Real Estate, SpringChickens an' Poetry. ' What'll it cost. Miss Patsy?"

"Nothing, " she said, her eyes dancing; "We'll do that job free ofcharge, Peggy!"

CHAPTER XVII

THE PENALTIES OF JOURNALISM

Two strange men appeared in Millville--keen, intelligent lookingfellows--and applied to Joe Wegg for jobs. Having received a hint fromMr. Merrick, Joe promptly employed the strangers to prepare the old millfor the reception of the machinery for the lighting plant, and both ofthem engaged board at the hold. 

"Thursday, " said Hetty, as she watched the pressman that night, "there'sa New York detective here--two of them, I think. "

"How do you know?"

"I recognized one of them, who used to prowl around the city looking forsuspicious characters. They say they've come to work on the new electricplant, but I don't believe it. "

Thursday worked a while in silence. 

"Mr. Merrick must have sent for them, " he suggested. 

"Yes. I think he suspects about the bomb. "

"He ought to discharge me, " said Thursday. 

"No; he's man enough to stand by his guns. I like Mr. Merrick. He didn'tbecome a millionaire without having cleverness to back him and I imaginehe is clever enough to thwart Skeelty and all his gang. "

"Perhaps I ought to go of my own accord, " said Thursday. 

"Don't do that. When you've found a friend like Mr. Merrick, stick tohim. I imagine those detectives are here to protect you, as well as theprinting plant. It won't be so easy to set a bomb the next time. "

Smith looked at her with a smile. There was a glint of admiration in hiseyes. 

"You're not a bad sleuth yourself, Hetty, " he remarked. "No detectivecould have acted more wisely and promptly than you did that night. "

"It was an accidental discovery, Thursday. Sometimes I sleep. "

That was a good deal of conversation for these two to indulge in. Hettywas talkative enough, at times, and so was Thursday Smith, when thehumor seized him; but when they were together they said very little. Theartist would stroll into the pressroom after the compositors hadfinished their tasks and watch the man make up the forms, lock them, place them on the press and run off the edition. Then he would glanceover the paper while Thursday washed up and put on his coat, after whichhe accompanied her to the door of her hotel and with a simple "goodnight" proceeded up the street to his own lodging. 

There are surprises in the newspaper business, as our girl journalistswere fast discovering. It was a real calamity when Miss Briggs, who hadbeen primarily responsible for getting the _Millville Daily Tribune_into proper working order, suddenly resigned her position. They haddepended a great deal on Miss Briggs, so when the telegraph editorinformed them she was going back to New York, they were positivelybewildered by her loss. Questions elicited the fact that the woman wasnervous over the recent explosion and looked for further trouble fromthe mill hands. She also suspected the two recent arrivals to bedetectives, and the town was so small and so absolutely without policeprotection that she would not risk her personal safety by remaininglonger in it. 

"Perhaps I'm homesick, " she added. "It's dreadfully lonely here when I'mnot at work, and for that reason I've tried to keep busy most of thetime. Really, I'm astonished to think I've stood this isolation so long;but now that my mind is made up, I'm going, and it is useless to ask meto remain. "

They offered her higher wages, and Mr. Merrick himself had a long talkwith her, but all arguments were unavailing. 

"What shall we do, Thursday?" asked Patsy in despair. "None of usunderstands telegraphy. "

"Hetty Hewitt does, " he suggested. 

"Hetty! I'm afraid if I asked her to assume this work she also wouldleave us. "

"No; she'll stay, " he said positively. 

"But she can't edit the telegraph news. Suppose she took the messages, who would get the night news in shape for the compositors? My unclewould not like to have me remain here until midnight, but even if hewould permit it I have not yet mastered the art of condensing thedispatches and selecting just such items as are suitable for the_Tribune_. "

"I'll do that, Miss Doyle, " promised Smith. 

"I've been paying especial attention to the work of Miss Briggs, for Ihad an idea she was getting uneasy. And I can take all the day messages, too. If Hetty will look after the wires evenings I can do the rest ofthe telegraph editor's work, and my own, too. "

"Good gracious, Thursday!" exclaimed Patsy; "you'll be running the wholepaper, presently. "

"No; I can't do the typesetting. But if the Dwyer girls stick to theirjob--and they seem quite contented here--I'll answer for the rest of theoutfit. "

"I'm glad the Dwyer girls seem contented, " she answered; "but I'mafraid to depend upon anyone now--except you. "

He liked that compliment, but said nothing further. After consultingwith Louise and Beth, Patsy broached the subject to Hetty, and theartist jumped at the opportunity to do something to occupy her leisuretime. The work brought her in contact with Thursday Smith more thanever, and when Miss Briggs departed bag and baggage for New York, thepaper suffered little through her defection. 

"Newspaper folk, " remarked Major Doyle, who was now at the farm enjoyinghis vacation and worshipping at the shrine of the managing editor in theperson of his versatile daughter, "are the most unreliable of any classin the world. So I've often been told, and I believe it. They come andgo, by fits and starts, and it's a wonder the erratic rascals never puta paper out of business. But they don't. You never heard of a newspaperthat failed to appear just because the mechanical force deserted andleft it in the lurch. By hook or crook the paper must be printed--andit always is. So don't worry, mavourneen; when your sallow-faced artistand your hobo jack-of-all-trades desert you, there'll still be a way tokeep the _Millville Tribune_ going, and therefore the world willcontinue to whirl on its axis. "

"I don't believe Thursday will ever desert, and Hetty likes us too wellto leave us in the lurch; but suppose those typesetters take a notion toflit?"

"Then, " said matter-of-fact Beth, "we'll fill the paper with ready-madeplate stuff and telegraph for more compositors. "

"That's it, " agreed the major, "Those people are always to be had. Butdon't worry till the time comes. As me grandfather, the commodore, oncesaid: 'Never cross a bridge till ye come to it. '"

"It wasn't your grandfather who originated that remark, " said UncleJohn. 

"It was, sir! I defy you to prove otherwise. "

"I'm not certain you ever had a grandfather; and he wasn't a commodore, anyhow. "

"Sir!" cried the major, glaring at his brother-in-law, "I have hiscommission, somewhere--laid away. "

"Never mind, " said Patsy, cheerfully, for these fierce arguments betweenher father and uncle--who were devotedly attached to one another--neverdisturbed her in the least, "the _Tribune's_ running smoothly just now, and the work is keeping us delightfully busy. I think that never in mylife have I enjoyed myself more than since I became a journalist. "

"Is the thing paying dividends?" inquired the major. 

Arthur laughed. 

"I've just been figuring up the last month's expenditures and receipts, "said he. "The first month didn't count, for we were getting started. "

"And what's the result?" asked the Major. 

"Every paper we send out--for one cent--costs us eighty-eight cents tomanufacture. "

There was a painful silence for a time, broken by the major's suggestivecough. 

"I hope, " said the old soldier, solemnly, "that the paper's circulationis very small. "

"The smallest of any daily paper in all the civilized word, sir, "declared the bookkeeper. 

"Of course, " remarked Louise, with dignity; "that is what distinguishesit. We did not undertake this publication to make money, and it does notcost us more than we are willing to pay for the exceptional experienceswe are gaining. "

The major raised his eyebrows; Arthur whistled softly; Uncle Johnsmiled; but with one accord they dropped the disagreeable subject. 

CHAPTER XVIII

OPEN WARFARE

Joe Wegg's machinery and dynamos arrived promptly and the electric plantwas speedily installed at the old mill. So energetically had the youngman supervised his work that poles and wires were all in place as far upthe road as Thompson's Crossing and a branch line run to the Wegg Farm, by the time the first test was made. 

All Millville celebrated that first night when its streets shoneresplendent under the glare of electric lights. There was a publicbonfire near the mill, speeches were made, and afterward Mr. Merrickserved a free supper to the villagers, in the hall over Sam Cotting'sGeneral Store, where the girls assisted in waiting upon the guests, andeverybody was happy and as hilarious as the fumes of good coffee couldmake them. 

More speeches were made in the hall, and one of these was by PeggyMcNutt, who had painted his wooden foot blue with red stripes in honorof the occasion. He said, according to the report afterward printed inthe Tribune:

"Feller Citizens! This 'ere town's bloomin' like a new mown rose. I'llbet anybody anything there ain't another town in Ameriky what's goneahead like we hev in the past few months that's jest past. (Applause. )If I do say it myself, we're the mos'--eh--the mos'--eh--progressioningcommunity in--in--this community. Our community hes put out a dailypaper what's a credit to--to--our community, especially the poetry;we've got a paper mill at Royal what makes paper fer New Yoruk; an' now, to cap the climate, our community hes lighted our community with'lectric lights fit fer Lundon, New Yoruk, Canada or--or--or--ourcommunity. (Laughter and cries of "Cut out the community, Peggy!") No!Never, feller citizens, will I cut out a community what's done so muchfer our--our community. If I do say it myself, the eyes of the com--ofthe world is upon us, an' I'm proud of the things that's ben did by ourfeller citizens, with my full approval, in this 'ere--this'ere--er--community!" (Cheers and a sandwich, which last offering wasreceived by Mr. McNutt in his back hair as he turned to descend from therostrum. )

Joe Wegg is reported to have said: "Neighbors, this electric plant is noplaything. It is going to give you all better light, at no more cost toyou than kerosene. But it will do more than that: it will run machineryof all kinds better than steam will. You've seen electricity running thenewspaper press, and the same current has operated the big paper millsat Royal. Here in this audience is a gentleman from Connecticut who hasaccepted my invitation to look over our village with a view to buildinga factory here, using the power I shall hereafter be able to furnish. Iam in correspondence with two other manufacturers, whom I hope to induceto locate in Millville. (Enthusiastic cheers. ) Job Fisher, who used tolive at Malvern, is planning to start a lumber mill, to cut the pinejust north of here; so you see we are about to arouse from our longsleep and have a great future before us if we keep wide awake. Anotheritem of news merits your attention. Bartlett has sold sixty acres of hisfarm to Dr. Adam Matthews, for many years a prominent physician ofBoston, who is going to build a good house on the land and become acitizen of Millville. We've always had to go to Huntingdon for a doctor, but now Dr. Matthews has promised to look after the health of theMillville people, although he has retired from city practice. Morepeople will come here from time to time, attracted by our enterprise andthe rugged beauty of our county; real estate will become more valuable, trade will prosper and every one of the old inhabitants will findopportunities to make money. " (Great applause. )

A general discussion followed concerning the "doin's of Joe Wegg" andthe prophecies he had made. Opinion seemed divided as to whether thepromised "boom" was desirable for Millville or not. Some of the goodvillagers were averse to personal activity and feared the new order ofthings might disturb their comfort; in others a mild ambition had beenawakened. But while they feasted at Mr. Merrick's expense and gravelycanvassed the situation, the newly installed electric lights suddenlyfailed. Darkness fell upon the assemblage and there was an awed hushuntil Sam Cotting lighted the old reliable kerosene lamps. 

Joe Wegg was as much astonished as anyone. 

"There has been an accident to the machinery, " he said to Mr. Merrick. "I'll run over to the mill and see what has happened. "

"I will go with you, " said Arthur Weldon, and Major Doyle also decidedto accompany the young man. 

Uncle John and his three nieces remained in the hall, and Mr. Merricktook occasion to make a little speech in which he explained that a hitchin the working of the electric plant was liable to happen at first, butafter a few days the dynamos could be fully depended upon. 

He had scarcely finished this explanation when Arthur came running backinto the hall in much excitement. He approached Mr. Merrick and said ina low voice:

"The machinery is all right, sir. Some one has cut the wires. "

"Cut the wires!"

"Yes. Joe thinks it's the work of the mill hands. The wires are cut inall directions, and several of the men from Royal have been seenloitering around by Cox and Booth, the detectives. "

The girls overheard this assertion, and Patsy exclaimed:

"I'm going to the office, to make sure our power hasn't been tamperedwith. "

The meeting broke up at once and the villagers trooped out toinvestigate. Mr. Merrick and Arthur walked with the girls to theprinting office, where they found Thursday Smith and Hetty working bythe light of tallow candles. 

"The power is off, " said Smith quietly. 

"Then the wire from Royal has also been cut, " said Patsy. "What shall wedo? His paper must come out to-morrow morning, in spite of anything andeverything!"

"Do you know who cut the wires?" inquired Thursday. 

"We think the mill hands must have done it. "

"Not with Skeelty's consent, I'll be bound, " said Mr. Merrick. "Themanager is too fearful of a damage suit to play any tricks. "

"A cut wire may be repaired, " suggested the pressman, and even as hespoke Joe Wegg came in, accompanied by the two detectives and the major. 

"Cox has interviewed one of the workmen from Royal, " said Joe, "and thefellow says there's a strike at the mill and everything is closed down. Skeelty is barricaded in his office building, wild with fear, for themen have captured the company's store and helped themselves to the stockof liquors. The man Cox spoke with, who seems to be a well disposedfellow, predicts all kinds of trouble, and perhaps rioting, before thisthing is ended. "

They listened to this report in amazement. 

"I conjecture, " said the major, "that the rascally manager has given hismen too much leeway. He's encouraged them in mischief until they'vetaken the bit between their teeth and turned against even their master. I have no personal acquaintance with the villain, but I imagine itserves him right. "

"But, dear me!" cried Patsy, wringing her hands; "what'll become of thepaper? It's nearly ten o'clock now. "

Thursday turned to Joe Wegg. 

"Can't we connect our supply wire with your new plant, so as to use yourpower?" he asked. 

"Easily. An hour's work will serve to make the connection. But unless wewatch the wire every minute those fellows will cut it again. The town'sfull of the rascals, and they're not exactly sober, either. "

"Watch the wire; that's the idea, " said Uncle John. "It's only a shortdistance to the mill, and I'm sure the villagers will volunteer for thisduty. "

"Of course, " said Joe. "Major Doyle, will you mount guard over my men atthe dynamos, to see they're not interfered with, while I look after thewire?"

"Sure enough; it'll remind me of the old war times, " said the majorreadily. 

"Where is Arthur?" asked Louise. 

"We left him at the mill. "

They left the office at once, Joe to get his line-men at work, and themajor to join Weldon in guarding the dynamos. One of the detectives wentwith Mr. Wegg, but the other, whose name was Booth, remained to guardthe printing office. Mr. Merrick now proposed that he take the girlshome. Patsy and Beth refused to leave until the emergency was past, whenthe major and Arthur could drive them to the farm, but Louise was tiredand went with Uncle John in his buggy, the surrey being left for therest of the party to use. Arthur ran over for a moment to say everythingwas quiet at the mill and he did not think there would be any furthertrouble, and the report considerably reassured them. 

CHAPTER XIX

A MERE MATTER OF REVENGE

Hetty and Thursday continued to work on the paper. 

"We'll have everything ready by the time the line is connected, " saidthe artist. "Then it will be but a few moments' work to run off theedition. "

Patsy and Beth held candles for them, for the electric lights had beencut off with the power; so, seeing them all busily engaged, ArthurWeldon decided to return to the mill to join the Major. Booth sat in thefront office, near the door, and in the darkness Arthur nearly stumbledover him. 

"Going away, sir?" asked the man. 

"Yes; I'll see if I can be of any assistance at the mill. "

"Be careful. Those workmen have been drifting into town in squads, thelast few minutes, and most of them are reckless with drink. "

"I'll watch out, " said Arthur. 

In the middle of the road a group of mill hands conversed excitedly insome foreign tongue; but they paid no attention to Weldon as he passedthem. Others joined them, presently, and one began a harangue in a loudvoice, to which they listened eagerly. Then Bob West slipped across fromthe hardware store and ran against the detective in the doorway of theprinting office. 

"Who's this?" he demanded, holding the man in a firm grip. 

"Booth, sir. "

"Good. I could not recognize you in this darkness. Are you armed?"

"Yes. "

"Then you and I will defend this door. Who is inside?"

"The pressman--Thursday Smith--and three of the girls. "

"The compositors?"

"No; they've gone to the hotel. Miss Doyle, Miss DeGraf, and--HettyHewitt. "

West went into the hack room, which was faintly illumined by candlesstuck here and there. The girls and Smith were all bending over theimposing stone, where the forms of the paper were being made up. 

"Here, " said West, taking a revolver from his pocket and laying it onthe table; "I'm afraid there may be an attack on this office in a fewminutes, for I understand the language of those strikers and have beenlistening to them. If any of the mill hands attempt to break into thisroom don't be afraid to shoot. "

"Why should the men wish to attack us, sir?" asked Patsy wonderingly. 

"There are several reasons. They're after Smith, for one thing. They'vean old grudge against him to settle. Aside from the mere matter ofrevenge I overheard one of them telling his friends to smash the pressand keep the paper from coming out, and Mr. Boglin would pay them wellfor the job. "

Smith carelessly thrust the revolver into his hip pocket. 

"The paper will come out if Mr. Wegg gives us the power, " he said. 

"Can you let me have a revolver, Mr. West?" asked Hetty. 

"Could you use it?"

"I think so. "

He looked at her a moment and then took a second revolver from hispocket. 

"I've robbed my hardware stock, " he said with a smile. "But I advise yougirls to keep your hands off the thing unless a crisis arises. I don'timagine the gang will get past me and Booth at the entrance, but if anystragglers come your way Smith has authority to drive them back. I'mjustice of the peace, and I hereby appoint you all special officers ofthe law. "

He said this lightly, fearing to alarm the girls unnecessarily, and thenpassed through the doorway and joined Booth at the front. 

The telephone rang and Patsy answered it. 

"How soon will the forms be ready?" asked Arthur's voice. 

"In ten minutes--perhaps five, " she answered. 

"We'll have the power on in ten minutes more. Tell Smith not to lose aninstant's time in running off the edition, for we don't know how long wecan keep the line open. The strikers are threatening us, even now. "

"All right, " called Patsy; "just give us the power for a few minutes, and we'll be through for to-night. "

She went back to Thursday and reported. 

"There may be a few typographical errors, and I'm afraid it's a badmake-up, " he remarked; "but I'll have the thing on the press in fiveminutes. "

With mallet and shooting-stick he tightened the quoins, then lifted theheavy iron frames filled with type and slid them onto the bed of thepress. They gave him all the light the flickering candles afforded as headjusted the machinery, and all were bending over the press when a low, distant growl was heard, rising slowly to a frenzied shout. A revolverpopped--another--followed by wild cries from the street. 

The girls grew a little pale, but Thursday Smith put his hand on thelever of the press and said:

"All right. The moment they give us the current we're ready to run. "

Patsy straightened up with a sigh of relief, then gave a low cry as thescreens of the two windows of the pressroom were smashed in and throughthe openings men began to tumble into the room. At once Hetty confrontedthem with leveled revolver and the sight caused them to hesitate. 

"Out o' the way, you women!" called a burly fellow who wore a greensweater and an oilskin hat; "we don't want to hurt you if we can help. There's the one we're after!" He pointed a finger at Thursday Smith. 

"You can't have him, " retorted Beth, half shielded behind the militantHetty. "This is private property, and you're trespassing. Unless you goaway at once you will suffer the consequences. "

This defense seemed to surprise them, for they fell back a little towardthe windows. At that moment, with a low rumble, the press started, moving slowly at first but gradually acquiring speed. The sight arousedthe resentment of the invaders. 

"Stop that press!" yelled their spokesman excitedly. "Stop it, Smith, orwe'll put both you and the machine out of business. "

Thursday paid no attention to anything but his press. The huge cylinderof white paper was unrolling, passing under the platen and emerging atthe other end as neatly folded copies of the Millville Daily Tribune. 

With a roar of rage the big fellow leaped forward, but at the action ashot rang out and he fell headlong almost at the foot of the press. 

Beth and Patsy turned their heads an instant to glance at Hetty. Theartist's face was white and set; her eyes sparkled brilliantly; she heldthe still smoking weapon in readiness for another shot. 

But the men were awed by the fall of their leader. They watched Bethleap to the platform beside Thursday Smith and draw his revolver fromhis pocket, where he had placed it. Hetty's courage had inspired her, and Beth had handled pistols before. The men read the determined eyesfixed upon them; they noted Smith's indifference to their threats. Thedefenders of the press and pressman were only girls, but they were girlsevidently not afraid to shoot. 

No advance was made and the tableau was dramatic. Smith watched hispress with undivided attention and it clattered away at full speed untilthe frail building shook with its powerful, steady motion. Then suddenlyit began to slow down. The power was off, and the machine came to anabrupt stop. 

Thursday stepped from the platform and looked at the index of thecounter. 

"Four hundred and sixty-three. Twenty-two short, Miss Doyle, " heannounced. 

"That'll do, Thursday. "

He came to her side, then, facing the sullen, glowering group of millhands. 

"Boys, " said he, "it won't do you any good to interfere with usto-night. The paper for to-morrow morning is already printed, and OjoyBoglin isn't a big enough man to stop it, now or ever. Better go backto Royal and settle your troubles with Skeelty, for if you stay here thecitizens of Millville are in the mood to shoot you down like dogs. "

They stood undecided a moment, but the argument had evidently struckhome. 

"What's the matter with Harris?" asked one, pointing to the motionlessform of the man in the green sweater. "Is he dead?"

"I suppose so, " answered Thursday coolly; but he stooped to examineHetty's victim, rolling him over so that his face was upward. "No; heisn't hurt much, I'm sorry to say. The bullet glanced off his foreheadand stunned him, that's all. Take the brute, if you want him, and go. "

They obeyed in silence. Several stepped forward and raised theunconscious Harris, bearing him to the window, where they passed him tothose without. Then they also retreated through the windows and the roomwas cleared. 

Only then did Hetty and Beth venture to lower their weapons. 

"Oh, dear!" cried Patsy, in a low, agitated voice; "I'm so glad youdidn't kill him, Hetty. "

"I'm not, " returned the artist doggedly. "He deserved death, at theleast, and by killing him I'd have cheated the gallows. "

Then she glanced around at the horrified faces of her friends and burstinto tears. 

CHAPTER XX

DEFENDING THE PRESS

In the front room Bob West and the detective were having a busy time. Atthe first rush they each fired a shot over the heads of the mob, merelyto let them know the place was guarded. In the darkness it wasimpossible for the strikers to tell how many armed men confronted them, so they fell back a little, but formed a cordon around the entirebuilding. From the printing office to the old mill was a distance ofonly a few hundred feet, and every able-bodied inhabitant of Millvilleexcept Peggy McNutt and Sara Cotting--who had discreetly disappeared atthe first sign of danger--was assisting Joe Wegg to protect the electriccable he was trying to connect. The men from Royal were scattered allalong the line, peering through the dim light to discover a vulnerablepoint of attack but deterred from interfering by the determination ofthe stalwart defenders. Mobs are invariably cowardly, and this one, composed of the lowest strata of mixed American and foreign laborers, was no exception to the general rule. However, when word was finallypassed along from the mill that the dynamo was running and supplyingpower to the printing press, a howl of rage went up and a sudden rushwas made for the line, the attack concentrating at one point. 

The defenders promptly grouped themselves in front of the threatenedpole and Seth Davis, the blacksmith, wielding a heavy sledge hammer, didvaliant service, clearing a space around him with little difficulty. JoeWegg, Arthur Weldon, Cox the detective, Lon Taft, Nick Thome and evenlittle Skim Clark were all in the melee, fighting desperately for timeto enable Thursday Smith to work his press, using whatever cudgels theyhad been able to pick up to keep the assailants from the pole. Slowly, however, they were forced back by superior numbers until finally one ofthe mill hands clambered up the pole and cut the wire. 

"Never mind, " said Arthur to Joe, as they retreated fighting toward theprinting office; "I think they've had time to run off the edition, provided Smith was ready with the forms. "

The mob was by this time in an ugly mood and the nearer Joe and Arthuredged toward the printing office the more numerous their enemies became. The Millville people were getting rather the worst of the scrimmage whenout rushed Thursday Smith, swinging a stout iron bar he had taken fromthe press, and with this terrible weapon he struck out so vigorouslythat the diversion in their favor enabled the retreating villagers togain the office, where Booth and Bob West fired several shots thateffectually checked the mob. 

"Stand back, ye villains!" cried a loud voice, as Major Doyle marchedcalmly down the road from the mill; "how dare ye interfere with agentleman?"

One of the leaders confronted him menacingly. The major slapped his facewith the flat of his hand and then kicked the fellow in the shins. 

"Didn't I say to get out o' my way?" he roared, and to the surprise ofeveryone--even the major, perhaps--they fell hack and allowed him towalk leisurely into the printing office. 

Having succeeded in their primary attempt to cut the wire, and findingthe determined band of defenders more dangerous than they had thought, the workmen retreated in the direction of Royal, where there was more tobe gained by rioting than in Millville. 

When at last the town was clear of them, Arthur, who was considerablybattered and bruised but pleased with the triumphant ending of theadventure, drove the girls and the major to the farm. They urged Hettyto accompany them, but she declared she was not a bit nervous andpreferred to sleep at the hotel. 

"I think the trouble is over for to-night, " said West, and all agreedwith him. Cox and Booth decided to sleep in the printing office, andafter the girls had driven away with their escorts and the villagers haddispersed to their homes, Thursday put on his coat and walked to thehotel with Hetty. 

"All that row was about me, " he remarked disconsolately. 

"But they didn't get you, " said Hetty, triumph in her voice. 

"No. "

He did not mention her bravery, or the loyal support of Beth and Patsy, but after a moment he added: "I'm not worth defending. "

"How do you know?" asked Hetty. "It occurs to me, Mr. Smith, that youare as much a stranger to yourself as to us. "

"That is true. "

"And in emergencies you are not averse to defending others. Of courseMiss DeGraf and her cousin wanted the paper printed, at all hazards. Idon't blame them for that; but I--"

She hesitated. 

"You simply stood by a comrade. Thank you, Hetty. "

"Good night, Thursday. "

"Will you be able to sleep to-night?"

"I'm going straight to bed. The rumpus has quieted my nerves. "

"Good night, then. "

In the early morning Mr. Merrick was awakened by a red glare thatflooded his bedroom. Going to the window he found the sky at the northfull of flame. He threw on his bathrobe and went to the door of ArthurWeldon's room, arousing the young man with a rap on the panels. 

"The settlement at Royal is burning, " he reported. 

Arthur came out, very weary and drowsy, for he had not been asleep longand the strenuous work of the night had tired him. 

"Let it burn, " he said, glancing through a window at the lurid light ofthe conflagration. "We couldn't be of any use going over there and, after all, it isn't our affair to relieve Skeelty. "

Then he told Uncle John of the riot in the village, for the oldgentleman had been sound asleep when the party returned to the farm. 

"The blaze is the work of those crazy strikers, I suppose, " said Mr. Merrick. "It looks from here as if they had set fire to their ownhomes, as well as to the paper mills and office and store buildings. Itwill be fortunate if the forest does not also burn. "

"Don't worry, sir, " advised Arthur. "We'll discover the extent of thefire by daylight. For my part, I'm going back to bed, and it will bewell for you to follow my example. "

"Another item for the paper, " whispered a soft voice, and there wasPatsy beside them at the window. 

Mr. Merrick sighed. 

"I had no idea so much excitement could possibly happen at Millville, "said he. "If this keeps on we'll have to go back to New York for quiet. But let us get to bed, my dear, for to-morrow is likely to be a busy dayfor us all. "

CHAPTER XXI

THE COMING OF FOGERTY

The homeless mill hands flocked to Chazy Junction next day, from whencea freight train distributed them over other parts of the country. Theclearing at Royal Falls was now a heap of charred embers, for every oneof the cheap, rough-board buildings had been consumed by the fire. 

Skeelty had watched the destruction of his plant with feelings ofmingled glee and disgust. He was insured against loss, and his rashworkmen, who had turned upon him so unexpectedly, had accidentallysettled the strike and their own future by starting the fire duringtheir drunken orgies. There being no longer a mill to employ them theywent elsewhere for work, rather glad of the change and regrettingnothing. As for the manager, he stood to lose temporary profits but wasnot wholly displeased by the catastrophe. Transportation of hismanufactured products had been so irregular and undefendable that evenwhile he watched the blaze he determined to rebuild his plant nearer themain line of a railway, for many such locations could be found where thepine was as plentiful as here. 

At dawn he entered the hotel at Millville with his arms full of booksand papers which he had succeeded in saving from the fire, and securinga room went directly to bed. It was afternoon when he awoke and afterobtaining a meal he strolled out into the village and entered thenewspaper office. 

"Here's an item for your paper, " he said to Patsy, who was busy at herdesk. "The mills at Royal will never be rebuilt, and Millville has lostthe only chance it ever had of becoming a manufacturing center. Thewhole settlement, which belonged to Boglin and myself, went up in smoke, and I'm willing to let it go at that. I shall collect the insurance, make myself good, and if anything's left over, that fool Boglin iswelcome to it. I admit I made a mistake in ever allowing him to induceme to build at Royal. Boglin owned the land and I used his money, so Igave up to him; but I'm through with the _honer'ble_ ass now. Put it allin the paper; it'll make him feel good. You might add that I'm takingthe evening train for New York, shaking the dust of your miserablevillage from my feet for good and all. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Patsy, brightly; "the Millville people willappreciate their good luck, I'm sure. "

Skeelty hung around the town for awhile, sneering at the new electriclight plant and insolently railing at any of the natives who wouldconverse with him. Then he hired Nick Thorne to drive him over to ChazyJunction, and that was the last Millville ever saw of him. 

During this day Joe Wegg's men succeeded in repairing all the wireswhich had been tampered with and in making a proper and permanentconnection of the cable to the printing office. That evening the villagewas again brilliantly lighted and thereafter the big dynamos whirledpeacefully and without interruption. 

The girls had a busy day, as Uncle John had predicted, for all theexciting incidents of the evening and night before had to be written upand the next day's paper teemed with "news" of a character to interestall its readers. Beth's editorial declared the neighborhood well rid ofthe paper mill, which had been of little advantage but had caused no endof annoyance because of the rough and mischievous character of theworkmen employed. In this statement nearly everyone agreed with her. 

Several had been wounded in the riot of the eventful evening, but noneseriously injured. The workmen took away their damaged comrades and LonTaft drove over to Huntingdon and had his head sewed up by the doctor. Other villagers suffered mere bruises, but all who engaged in the fightposed as heroes and even Peggy McNutt, who figured as "not present, "told marvelous tales of how he had worsted seven mill hands in astand-up fight, using only his invincible fists. 

The following forenoon the liveryman at the Junction brought toMillville a passenger who had arrived by the morning train--a quiet, boyish-looking man with a shock of brick-red hair and a thin, freckledface. He was driven directly to the Merrick farm, where Uncle Johnreceived him cordially, but with surprise, and at once favored the newarrival with a long interview in his private room. 

The girls, who had not yet gone to the office, awaited somewhatimpatiently the result of this conference, for they already knew thered-headed youth to be the great Fogerty--admitted by even his would-berivals, the king of New York detectives. Also they knew that Uncle Johnhad employed him some time ago to ferret out the mystery of the identityof Thursday Smith, and the fact of Fogerty's presence indicated he hadsomething to report. 

However, when Mr. Merrick came out of the private room his usuallycheery countenance wore a troubled expression. Fogerty was invariablyplacid and inscrutable, so no explanation could be gleaned from hisdemeanor. 

"Ready for town, my dears?" asked Uncle John. 

"Yes; the surrey is waiting, " answered Louise. 

"Then go along, and Fogerty and I will join you at the office presently. I want to confer with the major and Arthur before--before taking anysteps to--"

"What's the news, Uncle?" demanded Patsy, impatiently. 

"You shall know in good time. "

"Who is Thursday Smith?"

"By and by, dear. Don't bother me now. But that reminds me; you are tosay nothing to--to--Thursday about Mr. Fogerty's arrival. Treathim--Thursday, you know--just as you have always done, for the present, at least. Whatever we determine on in regard to this man, during ourconference, we must not forget that he has acted most gallantly since hecame to Millville. We really owe him a debt of gratitude. "

With this somewhat incomprehensible statement the girls were forced tocontent themselves. Feeling quite helpless, they drove to the officeand left the men to settle the fate of Thursday Smith. 

The "pressman" was now the man-of-all-work about the modest but trimlittle publishing plant. He attended to whatever job printing came in, made the etchings from Hetty's drawings, cast the stereotypes, made upthe forms and operated the press. But aside from this mechanical workSmith took the telegraphic news received by Hetty, edited and condensedit and wrote the black-letter headings over the various items. All this, with a general supervision over the girl compositors, kept the man busyfrom daybreak to midnight. 

In spite of this, the Tribune was essentially a "girls' paper, " sinceThursday Smith was the only man employed on it--not counting the "dummy"editor, Arthur Weldon, who did nothing but keep the books, and foundthis not an arduous task. Hetty, at Miss Briggs' desk, attended thetelegraph instrument and long-distance telephone, receiving news overboth wires, and still found time to draw her daily cartoons andadditional humorous sketches which she "worked in" whenever the moodseized her. The typesetting was done by the Dwyer sisters--a colorlesspair but quite reliable--while the reportorial and editorial work wasdivided between Louise, Beth and Patsy, none of whom shirked a singleduty. Indeed, they had come to love this work dearly and wereenthusiastic over the _Tribune_, which they fondly believed was beingwatched with envious admiration by all the journalistic world. 

This belief was not wholly due to egotism. Their "exchanges, " both cityand country, had shown considerable interest in the "MillvilleExperiment, " as they called it, and only a few days before the leadingjournal of a good-sized city had commented at length on the "girls'newspaper" and, after indulging in some humorous remarks, concludedquite seriously with the statement that "its evident sincerity, cleancontents and typographical neatness render the _Millville Daily Tribune_worthy a better setting than the somnolent country village whose censusis too low to be officially recorded. "

"But that's all right, " said Patsy, smiling at the praise; "we'd neverhave dared to start a newspaper anywhere else, because a journal thatwill do for Millville might not make a hit if it bumped againstexperienced competition. "

"We were woefully ignorant when we began, a few weeks ago, " commentedBeth, glancing with pride at her latest editorial, which she thought hadcaught the oracular tone of the big city newspapers. 

"And we're not expert journalists, even yet, " added Louise, with a sigh. "We've improved, to be sure; but I imagine there is still lots of roomfor improvement. "

"One trouble, " said Patsy, "is that every inhabitant of Millville wantsto see his or her name in print every day, whether he or she has doneanything worthy of publication or not. If the name isn't printed, we'vemade an enemy; and, if it is, the paper is sure to suffer more or lessridicule. "

"That is quite true, my dear, " responded Louise, the reporter. "I'vesaid everything, about every one of them, that has ever happened, orthreatened to happen, since we started the paper, and it is driving mecrazy to discover anything more about these stupid natives that will doto print. "

Hetty had overheard this conversation and now looked up with a smile. 

"Has your 'local happenings' column been prepared for to-morrow, Mrs. Weldon?" she inquired. 

"No; I'm about to start out to unearth some items, " replied Louise, wearily. 

"Let me do it for you. I've an hour or so to spare and I won't need toleave my desk, " suggested the artist. 

"It is my duty, you know, Hetty, and I've no right to evade it. "

"Evade it for to-day. Go home and rest. I'll do your column forto-morrow, and after the vacation you can tackle the thrillingsituations with better courage. "

"Thank you, Hetty. But I won't go home. I'll wait here to see Fogerty. "

"Fogerty!" exclaimed the artist, with a start of surprise. "Do you meanthe detective?"

"Yes, " said Louise, regretting she had inadvertently mentioned thename. 

"But what is there now to detect?" asked Hetty suspiciously. "Ourtroubles seem ended with the burning of the mill and the flitting ofSkeelty and his workmen. "

Louise hardly knew how to reply; but Patsy, who trusted the queer girlartist, said quite frankly:

"There remains the mystery of Thursday Smith to fathom, you know. "

Hetty flushed and an indignant look swept over her face. 

"What right has anyone to solve that mystery?" she asked defiantly. "Isn't that Thursday Smith's own business?"

"Perhaps, " returned Patsy, somewhat amused; "but Smith hasn't been ableto discover who he is--or was, rather--and seems really anxious toknow. "

Hetty bent over her desk for a time. Then she looked up and her thinfeatures were white and drawn with anxiety. 

"When you discover who Thursday Smith is, " said she, "the MillvilleTribune will lose its right bower. "

"Why?"

"Before his accident, or whatever it was that made him lose his memory, he was an unusual man, a man of exceptional ability. You know that. "

"We are all inclined to admit it, " answered Patsy. "But what then?"

"Men of ability, " declared Hetty slowly, "are of two classes: the verysuccessful, who attain high and honorable positions, or the cleverscoundrels who fasten themselves like leeches on humanity and bleedtheir victims with heartless unconcern. What will you gain if you unmaskthe past of Thursday Smith? You uncover a rogue or a man of affairs, andin either case you will lose your pressman. Better leave the curtaindrawn, Miss Doyle, and accept Thursday Smith as he is. "

There was so much good sense in this reasoning that all three girls wereimpressed and began to regret that Uncle John had called Fogerty tountangle the skein. But it was now too late for such repentance and, after all, they were curious to discover who their remarkable employeereally was. 

Even while the awkward silence that had fallen upon the group of girlscontinued, the door opened to admit Uncle John, Fogerty, Major Doyle andArthur Weldon. Except for the detective they were stern-faced anduncompromising. 

CHAPTER XXII

UNMASKED

Quintus Fogerty was as unlike the typical detective as one couldimagine. Small in size, slight and boyish, his years could not readilybe determined by the ordinary observer. His face was deeply furrowed andlined, yet a few paces away it seemed the face of a boy of eighteen. Hiscold gray eyes were persistently staring but conveyed no inkling of histhoughts. His brick-red hair was as unkempt as if it had never known acomb, yet the attire of the great detective was as fastidiously neat asif he had dressed for an important social function. Taken altogetherthere was something mistrustful and uncanny about Fogerty's looks, andhis habit of eternally puffing cigarettes rendered his companionshipunpleasant. Yet of the man's professional ability there was no doubt;Mr. Merrick and Arthur Weldon had had occasion to employ him before, with results that justified their faith in him. 

The detective greeted the young ladies with polite bows, supplemented byan aimless compliment on the neatness of their office. 

"Never would have recognized it as a newspaper sanctum, " said he in histhin, piping voice. "No litter, no stale pipes lying about, no cursingand quarreling, no excitement whatever. The editorial room is the indexto the workshop; I'll see if the mechanical department is kept asneatly. "

He opened the door to the back room, passed through and closed it softlybehind him. Mr. Merrick made a dive for the door and followed Fogerty. 

"What's the verdict, Arthur?" asked Louise curiously. 

"Why, I--I believe the verdict isn't rendered yet, " he hastily replied, and followed Mr. Merrick into the pressroom. 

"Now, then, " cried Patsy, grabbing the major firmly, "you'll not stir astep, sir, until you tell us the news!"

"What news, Patricia?" Inquired the old gentleman blandly. 

"Who was Thursday Smith?"

"The identical individual he is now, " said the Major. 

"Don't prevaricate, sir! Who was he? What did he do? What is his rightname?"

"Is it because you are especially interested in this man, my dear, orare ye simply consumed with feminine curiosity?"

"Be good, Daddy! Tell us all about it, " said Patsy coaxingly. 

"The man Thursday, then, was likely enough the brother of RobinsonCrusoe's man Friday. "

"Major, you're trifling!"

"Or mayhap an ex-president of the United States, or forby the senatorfrom Oklahoma. Belike he was once minister to Borneo, an' came home in ahurry an' forgot who he was. But John Merrick will be wanting me. "

He escaped and opened the door. Then, with his hand on the knob, heturned and added:

"Why don't ye come in, me journalistic investigators, and see the funfor yerselves? I suspect there's an item in store for ye. "

Then he went in, and they took the hint and entered the pressroom in afluttering group. Fogerty stood with his hands in his pockets intentlywatching the Dwyer girls set type, while at his elbow Mr. Merrick wasexplaining in a casual voice how many "m's" were required to make anewspaper column. In another part of the long room Arthur Weldon wasleaning over a table containing the half-empty forms, as if criticallyexamining them. Smith, arrayed in overalls and jumper, was cleaning andoiling the big press. 

"A daily newspaper, " said the major, loudly, as he held up a warningfinger to the bevy of nieces, behind whom Hetty's pale face appeared, "means a daily grind for all concerned in it. There's no vacation forthe paper, no hyphens, no skipping a day or two if it has a bad cold;it's the tyrant that leads its slaves by the nose, metaphorically, andhas no conscience. Just as regularly as the world rolls 'round the pressrolls out the newspaper, and human life or death makes littledifference to either of the revolutionists. "

While he spoke the Major led the way across the room to the stereotypingplant, which brought his party to a position near the press. Smithglanced at them and went on with his work. It was not unusual to havethe pressroom thus invaded. 

Presently Fogerty strolled over, smoking his eternal cigarette, andstood watching the pressman, as if interested in the oiling of thecomplicated machine. Smith, feeling himself under observation, glancedup again in an unconcerned way, and as he faced the detective Fogertygave a cleverly assumed start and exclaimed:

"Good God!"

Instantly Thursday Smith straightened up and looked at the manquestioningly. Fogerty stretched out his hand and said, as if in wonder:

"Why, Melville, old man, what are you doing here? We wondered what hadbecome of you, all these months. Shake hands, my boy! I'm glad I'vefound you. "

Smith leaned against the press and stared at him with dilated eyes. Everyone in the room was regarding the scene with intense but repressedexcitement. 

"What's wrong, Harold?" continued Fogerty, as if hurt by the other'shesitation to acknowledge their acquaintance. "You haven't forgotten me, have you? I'm McCormick, you know, and you and I have had many a goodtime together in the past. "

Smith passed his hand across his forehead with a dazed gesture. 

"What name did you call me, sir?" he asked. 

"Melville; Harold Melville, of East Sixty-sixth street. I'm sure I'mright. There can't be two like you in the world, you know. "

Thursday Smith stepped down from the platform and with a staggering gaitwalked to a stool, on which he weakly sank. He wiped the beads ofperspiration from his forehead and looked at Fogerty with a halffrightened air. 

"And you--are--McCormick?" he faltered. 

"Of course. "

Smith stared a moment and then shook his head. 

"It's no use, " he said despairingly; "I can't recall a single memory ofeither Harold Melville or--or his friend McCormick. Pardon me, sir; Imust confess my mind is absolutely blank concerning all my life previousto the last two years. Until this moment I--I could not recall my ownname. "

"H'm, " muttered Fogerty; "you recall it now, don't you?"

"No. You tell me my name is Melville, and you seem to recognize me as aman whom you once knew. I accept your statement in good faith, but Icannot corroborate it from my own knowledge. "

"That's queer, " retorted Fogerty, his cold eyes fixed upon the man'sface. 

"Let me explain, please, " said Smith, and related his curious experiencein practically the same words he had employed when confiding it to Mr. Merrick. "I had hoped, " he concluded, "that if ever I met one who knewme formerly, or heard my right name mentioned, my memory would comeback to me; but in this I am sorely disappointed. Did you know me well, sir?"

"Pretty well, " answered the detective, after a slight hesitation. 

"Then tell me something about myself. Tell me who I was. "

"Here--in public?" asked Fogerty, with a suggestive glance at thespectators, who had involuntarily crowded nearer. 

Smith flushed, but gazed firmly into the faces surrounding him. 

"Why not?" he returned. "These young ladies and Mr. Merrick accepted mewithout knowledge of my antecedents. They are entitled to as full anexplanation as--as I am. "

"You place me, Melville, in a rather embarrassing position, " declaredFogerty. "This is a queer case--the queerest in all my experience. Better let me post you in a private interview. "

Smith trembled a bit, from nervousness; but he persisted in his demand. 

"These people are entitled to the truth, " said he. "Tell us frankly allyou know about me, and do not mince words--whatever the truth may be. "

"Oh, it's not so bad, " announced the detective, with a shrug; "or atleast it wouldn't be in New York, among your old aristocratic haunts. But here, in a quiet country town, among these generous andsimple-hearted folks who have befriended you, the thing is ratherdifficult to say. "

"Say it!" commanded Smith. 

"I will. Many New Yorkers remember the firm of Melville & Ford, thecleverest pair of confidence men who ever undertook to fleece thewealthy lambs of the metropolis. "

"Confidence men!" gasped Smith, in a voice of horror. 

"Yes, putting it mildly. You were both jolly good fellows and made ahost of friends. You were well-groomed, rode in automobiles, frequentedgood clubs and had a stunning establishment on Sixty-sixth street whereyou entertained lavishly. You could afford to, for there was where youfleeced your victims. But it wasn't so very bad, as I said. You chosethe wealthy sons of the super-rich, who were glad to know such popularmen-about-town as Harold Melville and Edgar Ford. When one set ofinnocents had been so thoroughly trimmed that they compared notes andbegan to avoid you, you had only to pick up another bunch of lambs, forNew York contains many distinct flocks of the species. As they couldafford to lose, none of them ever complained to the police, although theCentral Office had an eye on you and knew your methods perfectly. 

"Finally you made a mistake--or rather Ford did, for he was not asclever as you were. He brought an imitation millionaire to your house; afellow who was putting up a brazen front on the smallest sort of a roll. You won his money and he denounced you, getting away with a pack ofmarked cards for evidence. At this you both took fright and decided on ahasty retreat. Gathering together your plunder--which was a royal sum, I'm convinced--you and Ford jumped into a motor car and--vanished fromNew York. 

"The balance of your history I base on premise. Ford has been located inChicago, where, with an ample supply of money, he is repeating his NewYork operations; but Harold Melville has never been heard of until thisday. I think the true explanation is easily arrived at. Goaded bycupidity--and perhaps envy of your superior talents--Ford took advantageof the situation and, finding the automobile speeding along a desertedroad, knocked you on the head, tumbled you out of the car, and made offwith your combined winnings. The blow had the effect--not so uncommon asyou think--of destroying your recollection of your past life, and youhave for two years been wandering in total ignorance of what caused youraffliction. "

During this recital Smith sat with his eyes eagerly fixed upon thespeaker's face, dwelling upon every word. At the conclusion of the storyhe dropped his face in his hands a moment, visibly shuddering. Thenagain he looked up, and after reading the circle of pitying facesconfronting him he bravely met Mr. Merrick's eyes. 

"Sir, " he said in a voice that faltered in spite of his efforts torender it firm, "you now know who I am. When I first came to you I was amere irresponsible hobo, a wandering tramp who had adopted the name ofThursday Smith because he was ignorant of his own, but who had no causeto be ashamed of his manhood. To-day I am discovered in my true guise. As Harold Melville, the disreputable trickster, I am not fit to remainin your employ--to associate with honest men and women. You will forgivemy imposition, I think, because you know how thoroughly ignorant I wasof the truth; but I will impose upon you no longer. I am sorry, sir, forI have been happy here; but I will go, thanking you for the kindlygenerosity that prompted you to accept me as I seemed to be, not as Iam. "

He rose, his face showing evidence of suffering, and bowed gravely. Hetty Hewitt walked over and stood by his side, laying her hand gentlyupon his arm. 

But Thursday Smith did not know John Merrick very well. The littlegentleman had silently listened, observing meanwhile the demeanor of theaccused, and now he smiled in his pleasant, whimsical way and caughtSmith's hand in both his own. 

"Man, man!" he cried, "you're misjudging both me and yourself, I don'tknow this fellow Melville. You don't know him, either. But I do knowThursday Smith, who has won my confidence and by his manly acts, andI'll stand by him through thick and thin!"

"I am Harold Melville--the gambler--the confidence man. "

"You're nothing of the sort, you're just Thursday Smith, and no moreresponsible for Harold Melville than I am. "

"Hooray!" exclaimed Patsy Doyle enthusiastically. "Uncle's right, Thursday. You're our friend, and the mainstay of the _Millville DailyTribune_. We shall not allow you to desert us just because you'vediscovered that your--your--ancestor--wasn't quite respectable. "

"That's it, exactly, " asserted Beth. "It's like hearing a tale of anancestor, Thursday, or of some member of your family who lived beforeyou. You cannot be responsible, in any way, for another man'swickedness. "

"As I look at it, " said Louise reflectively, "you are just two yearsold, Thursday, and innocent of any wrongdoing before that day you firstfound yourself. "

"There's no use our considering Melville at all, " added Uncle Johncheerfully. "I'm sorry we ever heard of him, except that in one way itclears up a mystery. Thursday Smith, we like you and trust you. Do notdoubt yourself because of this tale. I'll vouch for your fairness andintegrity. Forget Melville, who has never really existed so far as anyof us are concerned; be yourself, and count on our friendship andregard, which Thursday Smith has fairly won. "

Hetty was crying softly, her cheek laid against Thursday's sleeve. Theman stood as if turned to stone, but his cheeks were flushed, his eyessparkling, and his head proudly poised. 

Fogerty lighted a fresh cigarette, watching the scene with animperturbable smile. 

Suddenly Smith awoke to life. He half turned, looked wonderingly atHetty, and then folded her thin form in his arms and pressed a kiss onher forehead. 

Fogerty coughed. Uncle John jerked out his handkerchief and blew hisnose like a bugle call. 

The major's eyes were moist, for the old soldier was sympathetic as achild. But Patsy, a little catch in her voice, impulsively put her armsaround the unashamed pair and murmured: "I'm so glad, Hetty! I'm soglad, Thursday! But--dear me--aren't we going to have any paperto-morrow morning?"

That relieved the tension and everybody laughed. Thursday released Hettyand shook Uncle John's hand most gratefully. Then they all wanted toshake hands, and did until it came to Fogerty's turn. But now Smith drewback and looked askance at the detective. 

"I do not know you, Mr. McCormick, " he said with dignity. 

"My name's not McCormick; it's Fogerty, " said the other, without malice. "I was simply testing your memory by claiming to be an old friend. Personally I never knew Harold Melville, but I'm mighty glad to makeThursday Smith's acquaintance and will consider it an honor if you'llshake my hand. "

Smith was too happy to refuse. He took Fogerty's hand. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE JOURNALISTS ABDICATE

Mr. Merrick told Thursday Smith, in an apologetic way, how he had hiredFogerty to unravel the mystery of his former life, and how the greatdetective had gone to work so intelligently and skillfully that, withthe aid of a sketch Hetty had once made of the pressman, and which Mr. Merrick sent on, he had been able to identify the man and unearth thedisagreeable details of his history. 

Thursday was too humble, by this time, and too grateful, besides, toresent Uncle John's interference. He admitted that, after all, it wasbetter he should know the truth. 

"I've nothing to bother me now but the future, " he said, "and with God'shelp I mean to keep the name of Thursday Smith clean and free from anyreproach. "

After the interview he went about his duties as before and Hetty satdown at her desk and took the telegraphic news that came clicking overthe wire as if nothing important in her life had occurred. But the girljournalists were all excitement and already were beginning to plan thethings they might do to Make Hetty and Thursday happier. Cox and Boothhad gone away and Mr. Merrick thanked Fogerty for his skillful serviceand gave him a fat check. 

"It's a mighty interesting case, sir, " declared the detective, "and I'mas glad as any of you that it has ended so comfortably. WhateverMelville might have been--and his record is a little worse than Irelated it--there's no doubt of Thursday Smith's honesty. He's a mightyfine fellow, and Fate played a proper trick when she blotted out hisunscrupulous mind and left him as innocent as an unborn babe. He will dowell in his new life, I'm sure, and that girl of his, Hetty Hewitt--I'veknow of her reckless ways for years--has also redeemed herself andturned out a regular brick! All of which, Mr. Merrick is unusual in reallife, more's the pity, and therefore it makes even a cold-bloodeddetective feel good to witness it. "

Mr. Merrick smiled benignantly and Fogerty drove over to the Junction tocatch his train. 

After luncheon, Patsy, while arranging her galley proofs, inquired ofLouise for the local column. 

"Hetty said she'd attend to it, " was the reply; "but we are all upsetto-day and things are at sixes and sevens. "

"The column is all prepared, Miss Doyle, " announced Hetty. 

"Where is it?"

"Thursday has made it ready for the press. It's--illustrated, " sheconfessed. "I'd rather you wouldn't see it until the paper is out, ifyou can trust me. "

"To be sure, " said Patsy. "That's one responsibility I'm relieved of, anyhow. "

The paper was a bit uneven in appearance next morning, but when Patsycame down to breakfast she found both Uncle John and the major roaringwith laughter over Hetty's locals. 

The first item stated that "Mrs. Thorne took tea at Sam Cotting's lastevening, " (the Cottings being notoriously inhospitable) and the pictureshowed Mrs. Thorne, a sour-faced woman, departing from the store with apackage of tea. Then came the announcement that "Eph Hildreth got shotat West's hardware store, " and there was a picture of West weighing outa pound of buckshot for his customer. The next item said: "Ourdistinguished fellow citizen, Marshall Peggy McNutt, was discoveredunconscious on his front porch at 3 p. M. " The drawing of McNutt was oneof the best of the series. It was his habit to "snooze" in an easy chairon his porch every afternoon, and Hetty depicted the little man withboth feet--meat and wood--on the rail, his mouth open and eyes shut, while lusty snores were indicated by radiating lines and exclamationpoints. The Widow Clark's cow occupied the next square, being tetheredto a stake while Skim approached the animal with pail and milking-stool. Below the drawing were the words: "Mr. Skimton Clark, cowward. " A fewother local hits were concluded by a picture of Hon. Ojoy Boglin shakinghis fist at Mr. Skeelty, who held a package of money in his grasplabeled "insurance. " Below was the simple legend: "O Joy!"

The artist's cleverness became the subject of conversation at thebreakfast table, and Arthur remarked:

"You won't be able to hold Hetty in Millville long. Her talent enablesher to draw big salaries in New York and it isn't likely she willconsent to bury herself in this little town. "

"I'm not so sure, " said Patsy. "If we can hold Thursday Smith we canhold Hetty, you know. "

"We won't need to hold either of them for long, " observed Beth; "for inanother three weeks or so we must leave here and return to the city, when of course the _Millville Daily Tribune_ must suspend publication. "

"I've been thinking of that, " said Uncle John. 

"So have I, " declared Patsy. "For a long time I was puzzled what to do, for I hated dreadfully to kill our dear _Tribune_ after we've made itsuch a nice paper. Yet I knew very well we couldn't stay here all winterand run it. But last night I had an inspiration. Thursday will marryHetty, I suppose, and they can both stay here and run the Tribune. Theyare doing most of the work now. If Uncle John agrees, we will sell outto them on 'easy terms. '"

"Good gracious, Patsy!" chuckled the major, "wherever can the poorthings borrow money to keep going? Do you want to load onto an innocentbride an' groom the necessity of meeting a deficit of a couple ofhundred dollars every week?"

Patsy's face fell. 

"They have no money, I know, " she said, "except what they earn. "

"And their wages'll be cut off when they begin hiring themselves, " addedthe major. "No; you can't decently thrust such an incubus on Hetty andThursday--or on anyone else. You've been willing to pay the piper forthe sake of the dance, but no one else would do it. "

"Quite true, " agreed Arthur. "The days of the _Millville Tribune_ arenumbered. "

"Let us not settle that question just yet, " proposed Mr. Merrick, whohad been deep in thought. "I'll consider Patsy's proposition for awhileand then talk with Thursday. The paper belongs to the girls, but theoutfit is mine, and I suppose I may do what I please with it when mynieces retire from journalism. "

Even the major could not demur at this statement and so the conversationdropped. During the next few days Uncle John visited the printing officeseveral times and looked over the complete little plant with speculativeeyes. Then one day he made a trip to Malvern, thirty miles up therailway line from the Junction, where a successful weekly paper had longbeen published. He interviewed the editor, examined the outfitcritically, and after asking numerous questions returned to Millville inexcellent spirits. 

Then he invited Thursday Smith and Hetty to dine at the farm on Saturdayevening, which was the one evening in the week they were free, therebeing no Sunday morning paper. Thursday had bought a new suit of clothessince he came to the _Tribune_, and Hetty, after much urging, finallyprevailed upon him to accept the invitation. When the young man appearedat the farm he wore his new suit with an air of perfect ease thatdisguised its cheapness, and it was noticed that he seemed quite at homein the handsome living-room, where the party assembled after dinner. 

"I am in search of information, Thursday, " said Uncle John in hispleasant way. "Will you permit me to question you a bit?"

"Certainly, sir. "

"And you, Hetty?"

"Ask anything you like, sir. "

"Thank you. To begin with, what are your future plans? I understand, ofcourse, you are to be married; but--afterward?"

"We haven't considered that as yet, sir, " replied Thursday thoughtfully. "Of course we shall stay with the _Tribune_ as long as you care toemploy our services; but--"

"Well?"

"I have been given to understand the young ladies plan to return to NewYork at the end of September, and in that case of course the paper willsuspend. "

"My nieces will be obliged to abandon journalism, to be sure, " said Mr. Merrick; "but I see no reason why the paper should suspend. How wouldyou and Hetty like to remain in Millville and run it?"

Both Thursday and Hetty smiled, but it was the man who answered;

"We cannot afford such a luxury, sir. "

"Would you care to make your future home in Millville?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Hetty. "I love the quaint little town dearly, andthe villagers are all my friends. I'm sure Thursday doesn't care to goback to New York, where--where Harold Melville once lived. But, as hetruly says, we couldn't make a living with the _Tribune_, even if yougave us the use of the plant. "

"Let us see about that, " said Uncle John. "I will admit, in advance, that a daily paper in such a place is absurd. None of us quiteunderstood that when we established the _Tribune_. My nieces thought adaily the only satisfactory sort of newspaper, because they were used tosuch, but it did not take long to convince me--and perhaps them--that inspite of all our efforts the _Millville Daily Tribune_ would neverthrive. It is too expensive to pay its own way and requires too muchwork to be a pleasant plaything. Only unbounded enthusiasm and energyhave enabled my clever nieces to avoid being swamped by the monstertheir ambition created. "

"That, " said Patsy, with a laugh, "is very clearly and concisely put, mydear Uncle. "

"It was never intended to be a permanent thing, anyhow, " continued Mr. Merrick; "yet I must express my admiration for the courage and talent mynieces have displayed in forcing a temporary success where failure wasthe logical conclusion. Shortly, however, they intend to retiregracefully from the field of journalism, leaving me with a model countrynewspaper plant on my hands. Therefore it is I, Thursday and Hetty, andnot my nieces, who have a proposition to place before you. 

"While a daily paper is not appropriate in Millville, a weekly paper, distributed throughout Chazy County, would not only be desirable butcould be made to pay an excellent yearly profit. Through the enterpriseof Joe Wegg, Millville is destined to grow rapidly from this time on, and Chazy County is populous enough to support a good weekly paper, inany event. Therefore, my proposition is this: To turn the plant over toMr. And Mrs. Thursday Smith, who will change the name to the _MillvilleWeekly Tribune_ and run it as a permanent institution. Your only expensefor labor will be one assistant to set type and do odd jobs, since youare so competent that you can attend to all else yourselves. We will cutout the expensive news service we have heretofore indulged in anddispense with the private telegraph wire. Joe Wegg says he'll furnishyou with what power you need free of all charge, because the paper willboost Millville's interests, with which his own interests areidentified. Now, then, tell me what you think of my proposal. "

Hetty and Thursday had listened attentively and their faces proved theywere enthusiastic over the idea. They said at once they would be glad toundertake the proposition. 

"However, " said Thursday, after a little reflection, "there are twothings that might render our acceptance impossible. I suppose you willrequire rent for the outfit; but for a time, until we get well started, we could not afford to pay as much as you have a right to demand. "

"I have settled on my demands, " replied Mr. Merrick, "and hope you willagree to them. You must pay me for the use of the outfit twenty per centof your net profits, over and above all your operating and livingexpenses. When this sum has reimbursed me for my investment, the outfitwill belong to you. "

Thursday Smith looked his amazement. 

"That seems hardly business-like, sir, " he protested. 

"You are right; but this isn't entirely a business deal. You are savingmy nieces the humiliation of suspending the paper they established andhave labored on so lovingly. Moreover, I regard you and Hetty as friendswhom I am glad to put in the way of a modest but--I venture topredict--a successful business career. What is your second objection?"

"I heard Mr. West say the other day that he would soon need the buildingwe occupy to store his farm machinery in. "

"True; but I have anticipated that. I have completed plans for theerection of a new building for the newspaper, which will be located onthe vacant lot next to the hotel. I purchased the lot a long time ago. The new building, for which the lumber is already ordered, will be abetter one than the shed we are now in, and on the second floor I intendto have a cozy suite of rooms where you and Hetty can make a home ofyour own. Eh? How does that strike you, my children?"

Their faces were full of wonder and delight. 

"The new building goes with the outfit, on the same terms, " continuedMr. Merrick. "That is I take one-fifth of your net profits for the wholething. "

"But, sir, " suggested Thursday, "suppose no profits materialize?"

"Then I have induced you to undertake a poor venture and must suffer theconsequences, which to me will be no hardship at all. In that case Iwill agree to find some better business for you, but I am quite positiveyou will make a go of the _Millville Weekly Tribune_. "

"I think so, too, Mr. Merrick, or I would not accept your generousoffer, " replied Smith. 

"What do you think, Hetty?"

"The idea pleases me immensely, " she declared. "It is a splendidopportunity for us, and will enable us to live here quietly and forgetthe big outside world. New York has had a bad influence on both you andme, Thursday, and here we can begin a new life of absoluterespectability. "

"When do you intend to be married?" asked Patsy. 

"We have scarcely thought of that, as yet, for until this evening we didnot know what the future held in store for us. "

"Couldn't you arrange the wedding before we leave?" asked Beth. "Itwould delight us so much to be present at the ceremony. "

"I think we owe the young ladies that much, Thursday, " said Hetty, aftera brief hesitation. 

"Nothing could please me better, " he asserted eagerly. 

So they canvassed the wedding, and Patsy proposed they transfer thepaper to Thursday and Hetty--to become a weekly instead of a daily--ina week's time, and celebrate the wedding immediately after the secondissue, so as to give the bridal couple a brief vacation before gettingto work again. Neither of them wished to take a wedding trip, and Mr. Merrick promised to rush the work on the new building so they could moveinto their new rooms in the course of a few weeks. 

CHAPTER XXIV

A CHEERFUL BLUNDER

"We would like to ask your advice about one thing, sir, " said ThursdaySmith to Mr. Merrick, a little later that same evening. "Would it belegal for me to marry under the name of Thursday Smith, or must I use myreal name--Harold Melville?"

Uncle John could not answer this question, nor could the major orArthur. Hetty and her fiancé had both decided to cling to the name ofThursday Smith thereafter, and they disliked to be married under anyother--especially the detestable one of Harold Melville. 

"An act of legislature would render your new name legal, I believe, "said Mr. Merrick; "but such an act could not be passed until after thedate you have planned to be married. "

"But if it was made legal afterward it wouldn't matter greatly, "suggested the major. 

"I do not think it matters at all, " asserted Hetty. "It's the man I'mmarrying, not his name. I don't much care what he calls himself. "

"Oh, but it must be legal, you know!" exclaimed Patsy. "You don't carenow, perhaps, but you might in the future. We cannot be certain, youknow, that Thursday is entirely free from his former connection withHarold Melville. "

"Quite true, " agreed the major. 

"Then, " said Smith, with evident disappointment, "I must use the hatefulname of Melville for the wedding, and afterward abandon it for as longas possible. "

The nieces were greatly pleased with Uncle John's arrangement, whichrelieved them of the newspaper and also furnished Thursday and Hetty, ofwhom they had grown really fond, with a means of gaining a livelihood. 

Millville accepted the new arrangement with little adverse comment, thevillagers being quite satisfied with a weekly paper, which would costthem far less than the daily had done. Everyone was pleased to knowThursday Smith had acquired the business, for both he and Hetty had wonthe cordial friendship of the simple-hearted people and were a littlenearer to them than "the nabob's girls" could ever be. 

Preparations were speedily pushed forward for the wedding, which thenieces undertook to manage themselves, the prospective bride and groombeing too busy at the newspaper office to devote much attention to thepreliminaries of the great event. 

The ceremony was to take place at the farmhouse of Mr. Merrick, andevery inhabitant of Millville was invited to be present. The ministerwould drive over from Hooker's Falls, and the ceremony was to befollowed by a grand feast, for which delicacies were to be imported fromNew York. 

The girls provided a complete trousseau for Hetty, as their weddingpresent, while Arthur and the major undertook to furnish the newapartments, which were already under construction. Uncle John's gift wasa substantial check that would furnish the newly married couple withmodest capital to promote their business or which they could use in caseof emergencies. 

It was the very day before the wedding that Fogerty gave them so greatand agreeable a surprise that Uncle John called it "Fogerty's WeddingPresent" ever afterward. In its physical form it was merely a telegram, but in its spiritual and moral aspect it proved the greatest giftThursday and Hetty were destined to receive. The telegram was dated fromNew York and read as follows:

"Harold Melville just arrested here for passing a bogus check under anassumed name. Have interviewed him and find he is really Melville, soThursday Smith must be some one else, and doubtless a more respectablecharacter. Shall I undertake to discover his real identity?"

Uncle John let Thursday and Hetty answer this question, and their replywas a positive "no!"

"The great Fogerty made such a blunder the first time, " said Hetty, whowas overjoyed at the glorious news, "that he might give poor Thursdayanother dreadful scare if he tackled the job again. Let the mysteryremain unfathomable. "

"But, on the contrary, my dear, Fogerty might discover that Thursday wassome eminent and good man--as I am firmly convinced is the truth, "suggested Mr. Merrick. 

"He's that right now, " asserted Hetty. "For my part, I prefer to knownothing of his former history, and Thursday says the present situationthoroughly contents him. "

"I am more than contented, " said Thursday, with a happy smile. "Hettyhas cured me of my desire to wander, and no matter what I might havebeen in the past I am satisfied to remain hereafter a country editor. "