During the next hour she and Louise motored from house to house, recruiting school friends. Early afternoon found the old Press building invaded by a crew of willing and enthusiastic young workers. A group of fifteen boys and girls, armed with mops, window cloths and brooms, fell to work with such vigor that by nightfall the main portion of the building had emerged from its cocoon of grime.
Weary but well satisfied with her first day as a newspaper publisher, Penny went home and to bed. At breakfast the next morning she ate with such a preoccupied air that her father commented upon her sober countenance.
“I hope you haven’t encountered knotty problems so soon in your journalistic venture,” he remarked teasingly.
“None which you can’t solve for me,” said Penny. “I’ve decided to run the octopus tattoo story on the front page of our first issue.”
“Indeed? And when does the first issue appear?”
“I’ll print one week from today.”
“A Sunday paper?”
“I thought probably your presses wouldn’t be busy on that day.”
“My presses!”
“Yes, I haven’t hired my pressroom force yet. I plan to make up the paper, set the type and lock it in the page forms. Then I’ll haul it over to your plant for stereotyping and the press run.”