“Oh, that’s all right, Tom,” he chuckled. “Just forget to send me a bill for my subscription. That’s the way your Dad and I did.”
“Thanks a lot for helping us out,” said Tom, “and I’ll see that you don’t get a subscription dun.”
Tom climbed back to his place on the press, turned on the power and eased the clutch in gently. Helen watched anxiously, afraid that they might have another breakdown but the old machine clanked along steadily and she picked up the mounting pile of papers and returned to her task of folding.
Paper after paper she assembled, folded and slid onto the pile on the chair. When the chair overflowed with papers she stopped and carried them into the editorial office and piled them on the floor.
Tom finished his press run and went into the editorial office to get out their old hand mailer and start running the papers through to stamp the names and addresses on each one.
After an hour of steady folding Helen’s arms ached so severely she stopped working and went into the editorial office.
“Getting tired?” Tom asked.
She nodded.
“You run the mailer for a while and I’ll fold papers,” said her brother. “That will give you a rest.”
Helen agreed and they switched work. She clicked the papers through the mailer at a steady pace.