"If any of Deacon Abram's posse should come in," he remarked to Mary, "they wouldn't know me with all the ink that's on my face."
"Mother would have to look twice," laughed Mary. "Don't I wish I knew what people will think of the paper!"
She did not find out at once, even on Thursday. Jack had the engine going on time, and as fast as papers were printed, the distribution of them followed. It was a very creditable Eagle, but Mary blushed when she read in print the account Mr. Murdoch had written of the doings in Crofield.
"They'll think Jack's a hero," she said, "and what will they think of me?—and what will Miss Glidden say? But then he has complimented her."
Jack, too, was much pleased to read the vivid accounts she had written of the capture and escape of the daring young burglar who had broken into the house of Mrs. McNamara, and of the falling of Link's bridge. Neither of them, however, had an idea of how some articles in the paper would affect other people. Before noon, there was such a rush for Eagles, at the front office, that Mr. Black got out another ream of paper to print a second edition, and Mr. Bones had almost to fight to keep the excited crowd from going up-stairs to see for themselves whether the editor was there. Before night, poor Mrs. Murdoch went to the door thirty times to say to eager inquirers that Mr. Murdoch was in bed, and that Dr. Follet had forbidden him to see anybody, or to talk one word, or to get himself excited.
"What's the matter with the people?" she said wearily. "Can it be possible that anything's the matter with the Eagle? Mary Ogden said she'd taken the very best editorials from the city papers."
The Inquirer was nowhere that Thursday, and the excitement over the Eagle increased all the afternoon.
