The printers came down chuckling and gurgling after each
interview; it was partly the thought that she belonged to the "Herald,"
_their_ paper. Once Ross, as he cut down one of the temporarily distended
advertisements, looked up and caught the foreman giggling to himself.
"What in the name of common-sense you laughin' at, Cale?" he asked.
"What are _you_ laughing at?" rejoined the other.
"I dunno!"
The day wore on, wet and dreary outside, but all within the "Herald's"
bosom was snug and busy and murmurous with the healthy thrum of life and
prosperity renewed. Toward six o'clock, system accomplished, the new
guiding-spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive a
policy, were he there, when Minnie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs,
plunged into the room, waterproofed and radiant, and caught her friend in
her eager arms, and put an end to policy for that day.
But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were
evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper
windows of the "Herald" building. For the little editor worked hard, and
sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some mistakes
at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously than any
one else did. But she found a remedy for all such results of her
inexperience, and she developed experience.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283