“Invite him if you like,” replied Mr. Parker. “But no others. This is a newspaper picnic, not a bread line as you made it last year.”
After school that afternoon Penny worked as usual at the Times office. She was busy figuring advertising space when she glanced up and saw Fred Clousky standing in the doorway.
“Are—are you busy?” asked the boy diffidently.
“Yes, I am,” said Penny with discouraging brevity.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Fred murmured, “but I was wondering—do you have a job for me around here? I’d like to work on a real paper. Being editor of Chatter is okay but you don’t get any practical experience.”
“Oh, so you want a job?” inquired Penny. Inclined to give him a short answer, she thought better of it. “Everything considered,” she said, “what you need, Fred, is to learn about different kinds of type. It’s so easy to get name-plates and various headlines mixed!”
Fred kept his gaze on his shoes.
“I have just the job for you,” resumed Penny. “You can sort and clean the type when it’s broken out of the page forms. If you do that well, perhaps you can work up later on.”
“When do I start?” Fred asked in a crushed voice.
Penny was surprised for she had expected him to decline such a dirty, menial job. In a far more friendly tone she directed him to seek Old Horney who would be found in the composing room.