"Three dollars!" said Jack, after the money had been paid him, and he was on his way back to the Murdochs'. "Mother let me have the six dollars they gave me for the fish. And this makes nine dollars. Why, it will take me the rest of the way to the city—but I wouldn't have a cent when I got there."
When he reached the editor's house, Jack noticed that the house was on the same square with the block of wooden buildings containing the Eagle office, and that the editor could go to his work through his own garden, if he chose, instead of around by the street. He was again welcomed by Mrs. Murdoch, and then led at once into Mr. Murdoch's room, where the editor was in bed, groaning and complaining in a way that indicated much distress.
"I'm very sorry you're sick, Mr. Murdoch," said Jack.
"Thank you, Jack. It's just my luck. It's the very worst time for me to be on the sick-list. Nobody to get out the Eagle. Lost my 'devil' to-day, too!"
"Lost your 'devil'?" exclaimed Jack.
"Yes," said Mr. Murdoch in despair. "No 'devil'! No editor! Nobody but a wooden foreman and a pair of lead-headed type-stickers. The man that does the mailing has more than he can do, too. There won't be any Eagle this week, and perhaps none next week. Plenty of 'copy' nearly ready, too. It's too bad!"
"There won't be any Eagle this week."
"You needn't feel so discouraged," said Jack, deeply touched by the distress of the groaning editor. "Molly and I know what to do. She can manage the copy, just as she did for the Standard once. So can I. We'll go right to work."