“What’s the idee?” asked Mr. Tidd.
“I’m thinkin’,” says Mark, “of becomin’ an editor.”
“Sho!” says Mr. Tidd. He was surprised, and I guess maybe we three boys weren’t surprised, too! But if you’re around much with Mark Tidd you’ve got to get used to it. He’s always surprising you; it’s a regular business with him.
“What you goin’ to be editor of?” says I.
“The Wicksville Trumpet—if pa’s willin’,” says he.
I grinned. I almost laughed out loud. “Shucks!” says I.
“I’ll bet he can do it,” says Plunk Smalley.
Mark didn’t pay any attention to us, but just talked to Mr. Tidd. “The paper’s b-b-busted,” says he, stuttering for all that was in him, “and it’s goin’ to be s-s-sold at s-sheriff’s sale. I figger it’ll go cheap. Now, pa, can’t you make out to buy it for us?” Mind how he said us? That’s the kind of a fellow he was. If you were a friend of his he stuck to you, and whatever he started you could be in if you wanted to.
“Um!” says Mr. Tidd. “A newspaper’s a mighty important thing, Marcus Aurelius. I don’t call to mind that Gibbon mentions any of ’em in this book, but they’re important jest the same. Figger you could make out to run it so’s not to do any harm?”
“Yes, pa,” says Mark.