Helen in the Editor's Chair Part 11

Then the picture faded as they sped down the lake and Helen gave herself up to complete enjoyment of the boat trip.

There were few signs along the sh.o.r.e of the storm. After veering away from Rolfe it had evidently gone directly down the lake until it reached the summer resorts.

In less than ten minutes Rolfe had disappeared and the far end of the lake was in view. Preston slowed the _Liberty_ somewhat and swung across the lake to the left toward Crescent Beach, the new resort which several wealthy men from the state capital were promoting.

They slid around a rocky promontory and into view of the resort.

Boathouses dipped crazily into the water and the large bath-house, the most modern on the lake, had been crushed while the toboggan slide had been flipped upside down by the capricious wind.

The big pier had collapsed and Preston nosed the _Liberty_ carefully in-sh.o.r.e until the bow grated on the fresh, clean sand of the beach.

Kirk Foster, the young manager of the resort, was directing a crew of men who were cleaning up the debris.

The boatman introduced Helen to the manager and he willingly gave her all the details about the damage. The large, new hotel had escaped unharmed and the private cottages, some of which were nicer than the homes in Rolfe, had suffered only minor damage.

"The damage to the bathhouse, about $35,000, was the heaviest," said the manager, "but don't forget to say in your story that we'll have things fixed up in about two weeks, and everything is insured."

"I won't," promised Helen, "and when you have any news be sure and let me know."

"We cater to a pretty ritzy crowd," replied the manager, "and we ought to have some famous people here during the summer. I'll tip you off whenever I think there is a likely story."

Jim Preston left the mail for the resort and they returned to the Liberty, backed out carefully, and headed across the lake for Sandy Point, a resort which had been on the lake for more years than Helen could remember.

Sandy Point was popular with the townspeople and farmers and was known for its wonderful bathing beach. Lake Dubar was shallow there and it was safe for almost anyone to enjoy the bathing at Sandy Point.

The old resort was not nearly as pretentious as Crescent Beach for its bathhouses, cottages and hotel were weather beaten and vine-covered. Art Provost, the manager, was waiting for the morning mail when the Liberty churned up to the pier.

"Storm missed you," said the boatman.

"And right glad I am that it did," replied Provost. "I thought we were goners when I saw it coming down the lake but it swung over east and took its spite out on Crescent Beach. Been over there yet?"

"Stopped on the way down," replied Jim Preston. "They suffered a good bit of damage but will have it cleaned up in a couple or three days."

"Glad to hear that," said Provost, "that young manager, Foster, is a fine fellow."

Helen inquired for news about the resort and was told that it would be another week, about the first of June, before the season would be under way.

They left Sandy Point and headed up the lake, this time at a leisurely twenty miles an hour. Helen enjoyed every minute of the trip, drinking in the quiet beauty of the lake, its peaceful hills and the charm of the farms with their cattle browsing contentedly in the pastures.

It was noon when they docked at Rolfe and Helen, after thanking the boatman, went home instead of returning to the office.

Tom had come from school and lunch was on the table. Helen told her brother of the sale of the quarter page ad for the paper and the 500 bills.

"That's fine," said Tom, "but you must have looked on the wrong page in the cost book."

"Didn't I ask enough?"

"You were short about fifty cents," grinned Tom, "but we'll make a profit on the job, especially since you got him to run it as an ad in the paper."

"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Mrs. Blair asked Tom.

"I'll make the rounds of the stores and see what business I can line up for the paper," said the business manager of the _Herald_. "Then there are a couple of jobs of letterheads I'll have to get out of the way and by the time I get them printed the metal in the Linotype will be hot and I can set up Helen's editorials and whatever other copy she got ready this morning."

"The storm story runs six pages," said Helen, "and when I add a few paragraphs about the summer resorts, it will take another page. Is it too long?"

"Not if it is well written."

"You'll have to judge that for yourself."

"I walked home with Marg Stevens," said Tom, "and she said to tell you the soph.o.m.ore picnic planned for this afternoon has been postponed until Friday. A lot of the boys from the country have to go home early and help clean up the storm damage."

"Suits me just as well," said Helen, "for we'll have the paper off the press Thursday and I'll be ready for a picnic Friday."

Tom went to the office after lunch and Helen walked to school with Margaret. Just before the a.s.sembly was called to order, one of the teachers came down to Helen's desk and told her she was wanted in the superintendent's office. When Helen reached the office she found Superintendent Fowler and Mr. King, the state superintendent of schools, waiting for her. The state superintendent greeted her cordially and told Superintendent Fowler how Helen had met him at the train.

"I promised to give her a story about my visit," he explained, "and I thought this would be a good time."

Superintendent Fowler nodded his agreement and the state school leader continued.

"I hope you'll consider it good news," he told Helen, "when I say that the Rolfe school has been judged the finest in the state for towns under one thousand inhabitants."

"It certainly is news," said Helen. "Mr. Fowler has worked hard in the two years he has been here and the _Herald_ will be glad to have this story."

"I thought you would," said Mr. King, and he told Helen in detail of the improvement which had been made in the local school in the last two years and how much attention it was attracting throughout the state.

"You really ought to have a school page in the local paper," he told Helen in concluding.

"Perhaps we will next fall," replied the young editor of the _Herald_.

"By that time Tom and I should be veterans in the newspaper game and able to add another page of news to the _Herald_."

"We'll talk it over next August when I come back to get things in shape for the opening of the fall term," said Superintendent Fowler. "I'm heartily in favor of one if Tom and Helen can spare the time and the s.p.a.ce it will require."

Helen returned to the a.s.sembly with the handful of notes she had jotted down while Mr. King talked. Her American History cla.s.s had gone to its cla.s.sroom and she picked up her textbook and walked down the a.s.sembly, inquiring eyes following her, wondering why she had been called into the superintendent's office. They'd have to read the _Herald_ to find out that story.

CHAPTER VII _The First Issue_

At the close of school Helen met Margaret Stevens in the hall outside the a.s.sembly room.

"What is my first a.s.signment going to be?" asked Helen's reporting staff.

"I think it would be a good idea if you went to the teachers and got all the school news," Helen suggested. "It is almost the end of the year and most of the cla.s.ses are planning parties and programs of various kinds."

"I'll do it right away," promised Margaret and she hurried off on her first newspaper a.s.signment.

Helen smiled at her friend's enthusiasm and she hoped that it wouldn't wear off for Margaret was clever, knew a great many people and could be a real help if she made up her mind to gather news. In return, all Helen could offer would be the experience and the closer friends.h.i.+p which their constant a.s.sociation would mean.