“That’s just what I’m a-doing,” he replied. “Are you?”
“Are we what?” interposed Tom.
“Are you trying to be a county paper?” snorted Atwell.
“Yes,” replied Helen, “we are. This section of the county doesn’t have an official weekly and the people here want one.”
“You’re trying to rob me of my bread and butter for your own selfish ends,” stormed the visitor.
“We’re not trying to rob anybody,” replied Tom. “Get this straight. We’ve as much if not more right to be a county weekly than you have. All we have to say is be sure your records are correct when the supervisors meet in December. Now get out of here!”
Atwell rose slowly, his heavy features suffused with anger and his hands shaking.
“I serve notice on you,” he stormed, “that you’ll never win out.” He stomped from the room, slamming the front door as he went.
Mrs. Blair looked at Tom and Helen.
“Don’t you think you were a little short with him?” she asked.