“That’s right,” laughed Lefty. “Drum up your own trade.”
But the principal answered her seriously. “Well, there is an appropriation that might be used for printing, if the boys showed enough interest. But printing is different from manual labor. It takes real knowledge and skill. Our boys couldn’t learn it, I’m afraid.”
She was sure they could, especially boys like Alex, who wanted to. But Mr. Link was not the type of man to argue with. She was still thinking about Alex when they drove home and passed the beautiful West estate which was almost next door. Wasn’t there some way out for Alex? Why, she felt toward him almost the way she had about Tommy. He was as bad off as Tommy. She wanted to help him too, as they had Tommy. Maybe the Journal would do something. Dummy seemed to like kids, and he knew the back office. Maybe he could get one of the linotype men to teach Alex, but that did not seem probable. Besides, Dummy was a villain, even though he did seem nice. Amy often remarked, “He’s either just a nice old man or a deep-dyed villain.”
“Some difference between old man West’s kid and the Boyville School boys, isn’t there?” Lefty said and brought Joan out of her thoughts.
“It wouldn’t be so terrible,” Amy said, “if only they didn’t have to wear those horribly unbecoming khaki uniforms.”
Cookie often said that a fire was the most exciting thing a reporter could be sent to cover. Of course, Tim wasn’t really sent to cover the fire that broke out on the West estate two nights later, but he was there and so was Joan. The Journal staff did not work in the evenings. Every one was usually gone by five or so, but the reporters took turns coming back to the office every few hours during the evening to see whether anything had “broken.” Tim had not yet been assigned to any of this night duty. Mack had been at the office when the report of the fire came in, and he had phoned for Lefty and his camera and special equipment to take night pictures. Lefty, driving up to the curb to pick up Mack, honked also for Tim.
Joan had been sitting on the porch steps, too, with Em cuddled in the lap of her plaid skirt. Now, she jumped up, spilling Em, and dashed after her brother. “A fire! Oh, Tim, let me go, too. Mother’s gone to an Auxiliary meeting, and I don’t want to stay alone.”
That was just an excuse so Tim’d take her.
“All right,” he grunted. “If the rest don’t mind, I don’t.”