There was no one to send but Tim. Lefty heard the news and came rushing through the office, from out back where he had been in his dark room. He was slipping the strap of his camera over his neck as he hurried along.
“You’ll have to go, Martin,” Mr. Nixon said. “You’ve been doing better lately. A fire’s broken out in one of the buildings on Main Street—near the Presbyterian Church.”
Tim, grabbing his hat off the hook, started for the door on a run.
“Get details,” the editor yelled after him. “You know, the origin of the fire, owner’s name, who discovered it, loss, and amount of insurance. And, for Pete’s sake, be accurate.”
Get details! Joan, propelling herself out of the office, almost upon Tim’s heels, bumped into Amy.
“Amy, there’s a fire on Main Street,” she gasped. “And Tim’s going to cover it.”
“Cover it?” echoed Amy. “What with?”
“Write it up, that means,” explained Joan, with mock patience. “Come on and go with me. We can watch and get details too. Oh, maybe Tim’ll make the front page!”
CHAPTER XVII
TIM MAKES THE FRONT PAGE
From the Journal’s point of view, it was a wonderful fire. It was only a ramshackle, vacant building that was burning, but it was right in the heart of the downtown section of Plainfield. When Joan and Amy reached the corner, they had to step over solid rounds of hose, stretched taut across the street. The red and yellow street cars were stalled for blocks, and down the street was the blazing, leaping fire.