“Dad wouldn’t want a long sob story,” replied Helen. “Here’s the clipped editorials. You can put them on the hook on your Linotype and I’ll bring the others out as soon as I write them.”
Tom returned to the composing room with the handful of editorial copy Helen had given him and the editor of the Herald resumed her duties.
She wrote an editorial on the beauty of Rolfe in the spring and another one on the desirability for a paved road between Rolfe and Gladbrook, the county seat. In advocating the paved road, Helen pointed to the increased tourist traffic which would be drawn to Rolfe as soon as a paved road made Lake Dubar accessible to main highways.
It was nearly two o’clock when she finished her labor at the typewriter. She was tired and hungry. One thing sure, being editor of the Herald would be no easy task. Of that she was convinced.
“Let’s go home for dinner,” she called to Tom.
“Suits me,” replied her brother. “I’ve finished throwing in the last page. We’re all ready to start work on the next issue.”
They took off their aprons and while Helen washed her hands, Tom closed the windows and locked the back door. He took his turn at the sink and they locked the front door and started for home.
“What we need now is a good, big story for our first edition,” said Tom.
“We may have it before nightfall if those clouds get to rolling much more,” said Helen.
Tom scanned the sky. The sunshine of the May morning had vanished. Ominous banks of clouds were rolling over the hills which flanked the western valley of Lake Dubar and the lake itself was lashed by white caps, spurred by a gusty wind.