"Don't forget to pick up all the news you can at the party," cautioned Helen.

"I won't," promised her mother.

Helen had just finished folding the papers when Tom returned with Milt Pearsall.

The mechanic was a large, heavy-set man with a mop of unruly hair, eyes that twinkled a merry blue, and lips that constantly smiled.

"h.e.l.lo, Editor," he boomed. "Press broke again, Tom says. Huh, expected it to happen most anytime. Well, let's see what's the matter."

He eased his bulk down under the press, dug into his tool kit for a flashlight and wormed his way into the machinery.

"Get me the long wrench," he directed Tom.

The request complied with, there followed a number of thumps and whacks of steel against steel, a groan as Pearsall b.u.mped his head in the crowded quarters, and finally a grunt of satisfaction.

The mechanic crawled from under the press, a smudge of ink across his forehead. He wiped his hands thoughtfully.

"Some day," he ventured, "that old press is going to fall apart and I won't be able to tease it back again."

"What was the trouble?" asked Tom.

"Cross bar slipped out of place and dropped down so it caught and held the bed of the press from moving. Good thing you shut off the power or you might have snapped that rod. Then we'd have been out of luck until I could have made a new one."

"How much will it be?" Tom asked.

The big mechanic grinned.

"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 a.s.sembled, 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.

"Papers ready?" called the postmaster from his office in the front half of the _Herald_ building.

"The city list is stamped and ready," replied Helen. "I'll bring them in right away."

"Never mind," said Mr. Hughes, "I'll save you a trip."

"Matter of fact," continued the postmaster when he entered the office, "I wanted to see what kind of an issue you two kids got out."

Helen handed him an unstamped paper and he sat down in the one vacant chair. She valued the old postmaster's friendship highly and awaited his comment with unusual interest.

"One of the best issues of the _Herald_ I've ever seen," he enthused when he had finished looking over the paper. "Your stories have got all your Dad's 'get up and go' and these headlines are something new for the _Herald_. Believe I like 'em."

"Some people may not," said Helen, "so we'll appreciate all of the boosting you do."

"I'll do plenty," he chuckled as he picked up an armful of papers and returned to the postoffice.

Margaret Stevens bustled in after school in time to help carry the last of the papers to the postoffice and she insisted on sweeping out the editorial office.

"You're just 'white' tired," she scolded Helen. "Sit down and I'll swing this broom a few times."

"I am a little tired," admitted Helen. "How about you, Tom?"

"Me for bed just as soon as I get home and have something to eat," agreed her brother. "Guess we were all worked up and nervous over our first issue."

"You were a real help, Margaret," said Helen, "and I hope you'll like reporting well enough to stick with us."

"I'm crazy about it," replied Margaret, wielding the broom with new vigor.

Conversation among the soph.o.m.ores the next morning at school was devoted solely to the cla.s.s picnic in the afternoon. The refreshment committee had been busy and each member of the cla.s.s was to furnish one thing.

Helen was to bring pickles and Margaret's mother was baking a large chocolate cake.

The cla.s.s was dismissed at noon for the rest of the day, to meet again at one o'clock at Jim Preston's boat landing for the trip down the lake to the picnic grounds on Linder's farm.

There were 18 in the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s and it was necessary for the boatman to make two trips with the _Liberty_ to transport them to the picnic grounds. Helen and Margaret were in the first boat load and were the first ones out on the sandy beach at Linder's. The rambling old farmhouse, famous for its home cooked chicken dinners, set back several hundred feet from the lake sh.o.r.e. To the left of the farm was a dense grove of maples. The picnic was to be along the sh.o.r.e just in front of the maples where there was ample shade to protect the group from the warm rays of the sun.

Miss Carver, the cla.s.s advisor, rented two rowboats at Linder's, and the cla.s.s took turns enjoying cruises along the sh.o.r.e, hunting unusual rocks and sh.e.l.ls for their collection at school.

The day previous Miss Carver and another teacher had come down the lake and made arrangements for a treasure hunt. The first clue was to be revealed at three o'clock and the cla.s.s, divided into two groups, was to compete to see which group could find the hidden treasure. The first clue took them to the Linder farmyard, the second through the maples to an old sugarhouse, and the third brought them out of the timber and along a meadow where placid dairy cattle looked at them with wondering eyes. The fourth clue was found along the stream which cut through the meadow and Helen, leading one group, turned back toward the lake. A breeze was freshening out of the west and the sun dropped rapidly toward the shadows which were enfolding the hills.

The final clue took them back to their picnic ground and they arrived just ahead of Margaret and her followers to claim the prize, a two pound box of chocolates.

Miss Carver had laid out the baskets and hampers of food and the girls, helped by the boys in their clumsy way, started serving the supper.

One of the boys built a bonfire and with the coming of twilight and the cooling of the air its warmth felt good. The flames chased the shadows back toward the timber and sent dancing reflections out on the ruffled waters of Lake Dubar.

The afternoon in the open had whetted their appet.i.tes and they enjoyed their meal to the fullest. Thick, spicy sandwiches disappeared as if by magic, pickles followed in quick order and the mounds of potato salad melted away.

They stopped for a second wind before attacking the cakes and cookies but when those fortresses of food had been conquered the boys cut and sharpened sticks and the girls opened a large sack of marshmallows.

More wood was heaped on the fire and they gathered around the flames to toast the soft, white cubes.