“Sure. But that will be all right. I guess the best place to go will be the Greenburg News. They probably have more type and stuff than the other shops.”
“Who prints The Scholiast?” Tom inquired.
“A fellow named Prince. His place is over Walton’s dry goods store. It’s just a small shop. I’ve been up there; went up last year when I was on the program committee for Cambridge. We might ask him to do it.”
Alf looked about questioningly. Tom shook his head.
“Better not risk it. He might get remorse and tell Joe.”
“That’s what I think,” said Dan. “Better go somewhere else.”
“All right. We’ll try the News place first. There are half a dozen printers in Greenburg, I guess. Meanwhile you fellows get your thinking caps on and make notes of anything that seems good for the paper. About Saturday night we’ll meet over at our room and get busy; have a meeting of the Editorial Council—whatever that is!”
“It’s a perfectly swell idea,” said Dan, admiringly. “How’d you come to think of it, Alf?” Alf looked becomingly modest.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just wanted some way to get a laugh on Joe Chambers. He said I couldn’t hold down a reporter’s job for ten minutes. I don’t know what a reporter has to do, exactly; and I dare say he’s quite right; but I don’t intend to have him saying so to my face!”