CHAPTER XXIX.
THE RIVAL CANDIDATE.
Fred Carroll’s joy over the success of the Bulletin’s police exposé was marred by the thought that the girl he loved was likely to suffer for the part she had played in it.
If it had not been for Melba, the Bulletin could not have published the snapshots which had created such a great stir in Oldham. No doubt Melba’s uncle and cousin, realizing this fact, would do their utmost to make the girl regret the devoted service which she had rendered their enemy.[Pg 51]
This thought worried Carroll exceedingly. So anxious was he concerning her that, at length, he decided to send a messenger to her with a note, urging her to let him know immediately how things were going with her at home.
He would have called up the Gale residence on the telephone, but Melba had cautioned him that such a proceeding was dangerous, as the telephone at the house was a double one, and Martha, her uncle’s shrewish old housekeeper, was in the habit of listening at the extension instrument upstairs whenever she, Melba, spoke over the wire downstairs. Such conversations Martha always reported in detail to her master when he came home.
Carroll thought that it would be safe to risk sending a note to the house. He intended to make Miggsy its bearer, and that youngster had on several occasions demonstrated his ability to deliver notes to Miss Gale without running foul of the housekeeper’s sharp old eyes.
However, the missive was never sent; for, just as he was writing it, Melba entered the Bulletin’s editorial room, and, unannounced, stepped up to his desk.
“Congratulations, Fred!” she exclaimed brightly. “Your editorial and Mr. Hawley’s snapshots have certainly made a great hit. They’re the talk of the town. The word Bulletin was on the lips of every second person I passed on my way here.”
Carroll was greatly relieved to see that she was smiling, and apparently quite at ease. Evidently she had not as yet been visited with her uncle’s and cousin’s displeasure; or, if she had, at least she didn’t seem to be any the worse for it.
“Yes,” he responded, as he dragged a chair toward her, “I guess we’ve stirred the town up some; and, what’s more important, we’re reaping the harvest. Our circulation department has been doing a land-office business; our entire edition is completely sold out, and I’ve got a bunch of new subscriptions. Several ads have come in to-day, too. They’re only small ones, but they’re ready money. The outlook begins to look encouraging. And I owe it all to you, little girl. If it hadn’t been for your pluck and cleverness in getting those films away from——”