"Be careful, Tom," Helen warned. "Margaret is captain of our debate team."

"Oh, that's all right," chuckled Tom. "No offense."

"It will be an offense, though," smiled Margaret, "and the juniors will be on the receiving end of our verbal attack."

"Look out for a counter attack," Tom grinned.

"We'll be home early, mother," said Helen as they left the house.

"I hope the soph.o.m.ores win," her mother said. "Tom and his juniors are too sure of themselves."

The seven-fifteen coughed its way into town, showering the few people on the platform with cinders. Helen ran to the mail car and dropped her letter into the mail slot.

Mr. King, the state superintendent of instruction, was the only pa.s.senger leaving but there were several Rolfe people getting off the train. She got their names and stopped to talk a minute or two with the agent.

"I'll have some news for next week's paper," he told her, but refused to say another word about the promised story and Helen went on to the high school.

The a.s.sembly was well filled with students and a scattering of parents whose children were taking part in the inter-cla.s.s debate. The senior debaters had already eliminated the freshmen and the winner of the soph.o.m.ore-junior debate would meet the seniors for the championship of the school.

Helen looked around for a seat and was surprised to see her mother beside Mrs. Stevens.

"I didn't know you planned to come," Helen said.

"I didn't," smiled her mother, "but just after you left Mrs. Stevens ran over and I decided to come with her."

The debate was on the question of whether the state should adopt a paving program which would reach every county. The soph.o.m.ores supported the affirmative and the juniors the negative. The question was of vital interest for it was to come to a vote in July and, if approved, Rolfe would get a place on the scenic highway which would run along the western border of the state, through the beautiful lake country. It would mean an increased tourist trade and more business for Rolfe.

Margaret had marshalled her facts into impressive arguments and the weight of the evidence was with her team but the juniors threw up a smoke screen of ridicule to hide their weaker facts and Helen felt her heart sinking as the debate progressed. Margaret made the final reb.u.t.tal for the soph.o.m.ores and gave a masterful argument in favor of the paved road program but the last junior speaker came back with a few humorous remarks that could easily confuse the judges into mistaking brilliant humor for facts.

The debate closed and the judges handed their slips with their decisions to Superintendent Fowler. Every eye in the a.s.sembly watched the superintendent as he unfolded the slips and jotted down the results. He stood up behind his desk.

"The judges vote two to one in favor of the soph.o.m.ores," he announced.

There was a burst of applause and students and parents crowded around the victorious team to congratulate it. When it was all over, Mrs. Blair, Mrs. Stevens, Margaret, Helen and Tom started home together.

"And we didn't have a chance," Margaret chided Tom.

"I still think we have the best team," insisted Tom. "The judges got a little confused."

"If they were confused, Tom," his mother said, "it was by the juniors.

Your team didn't have the facts; they resorted to humor and ridicule. I think it is a fine victory for the soph.o.m.ores."

Tuesday morning Helen looked over the stories Margaret had written the afternoon before and wrote a long story about the soph.o.m.ore-junior debate, stressing the arguments in favor of the paving program which the soph.o.m.ores had brought out. She was thoroughly in agreement and meant to devote s.p.a.ce in the _Herald_, both editorially and from a news standpoint, to furthering the pa.s.sage of the good roads program.

The farmer who had called the day before came in with his copy for the ad and sale bills.

"I've talked over the farm page idea with my brother," Helen told him, "and we'll get one started just as soon as he can find the time to go to Gladbrook and see the county agent."

"I'm glad to hear that," replied the farmer, "and I'll pa.s.s the word around to our neighbors. Also, if you had a column of news each week from the courthouse it would help your paper. A lot of farmers take one of the Gladbrook papers just for that reason. They want courthouse news and can't get it in the _Herald_."

"We'll see about that, too," promised Helen.

She had almost forgotten that she was to write to the state bureau of the a.s.sociated Press and apply for the job as correspondent for Rolfe and the nearby vicinity. She wrote one letter, was dissatisfied, tore it up and wrote a second and then a third before she was ready to mail it. As Tom had said, it would be one way of increasing their income and at the same time might help her to secure a job later.

Margaret finished her school stories after school that afternoon and Helen visited all of the stores down town in search of personals. Several fishermen had been fined for illegal fishing and she got that story from the justice of the peace. She called on the ministers and got their church notices.

Wednesday was their big day and Helen worked hard all morning writing her personals. The main news stories about the storm, the visit of the state superintendent and the high school debate were already in type and Tom had finished setting most of the ads.

When Helen came down after school Tom called her into the composing room.

He had the ads for the two inside pages placed in the forms. One of the pages they devoted to the editorials and the other they filled with personal items about the comings and goings of local people.

The ads were placed well in the pages and when Tom finished putting in the type he stood back and looked at his handiwork.

"I call that mighty good makeup," he said. "Pyramiding the ads on the left side of the page makes them look better and then we always have news on the right-hand side."

Helen agreed that the pages were well made up and Tom locked the type into the steel forms, picked up one of the pages and carried it to the press. The other page was put on and locked into place.

Tom washed his hands and climbed up to take his place on the press. The paper for that issue of the _Herald_ had come down from Cranston the day before with four pages, two and three and six and seven already printed.

Pages four and five, filled with local news and ads, were on the press.

Tom would get them printed in the next two hours and on Thursday afternoon would make up and print page one and page eight.

He smoothed the stack of paper on the feeding board, put a little glycerine on his fingers so he could pick up each sheet and feed it into the press, and then threw on the switch. The motor hummed. Tom fed one sheet into the press and pushed in the clutch. The press shook itself out of its week-long slumber, groaned in protest at the thought of printing another week's issue, but at the continued urging of the powerful motor, clanked into motion.

"See how the ink looks," Tom called and Helen seized the first few papers. Her brother stopped the press and climbed down to look over the pages for possible corrections.

"Looks all right," he conceded as he scanned the cleanly printed page.

"Wonder how Dad will like our new editorial head and the three column box head I set for your personals?"

"He'll like them," Helen said. "The only reason he didn't do things like that was because he didn't have the strength."

Tom nodded, wiped a tear from his eyes, and went back to feeding the press. Helen kept the papers stacked neatly as they came out and it was nearly six o'clock before Tom finished the first run.

"We'll go home and get something to eat," he said, "and then come back.

I've got some more copy to set on the Linotype and you write your last minute stories. Maybe we'll have time to make up part of the front page before we go home tonight. I'd like to have you here and we'll write the heads together and see how they look."

"Are you going to head all of the front page stories?" asked Helen.

"If I have time," Tom replied. "It improves the looks of the paper; makes it look newsy and alive."

Supper was waiting for them when they reached home and Tom handed his mother a copy of the two inside pages they had just printed.

"It looks fine," enthused Mrs. Blair, "and the ads are so well arranged and attractive. Tom, you've certainly worked hard, and, Helen, I don't see where you got so many personals."

"We're going to use your column of social news on page eight," Tom went on. "It's on the last run and in that way we can be sure of getting in all of your news."

"I have three more items," said his mother. "They're all written and ready to be set up."