"But she can't edit the telegraph news.Suppose she took the messages，who would get the night news in shape for the compositors？My uncle would not like to have me remain here until midnight，but even if he would permit it I have not yet mastered the art of condensinga the dispatches and selecting just such items as are suitable for the Tribune.""I'll do that，Miss Doyle，"promised Smith.
"I've been paying especial attention to the work of Miss Briggs，for I had an idea she was getting uneasy.And I can take all the day messages，too.If Hetty will look after the wires evenings I can do the rest of the telegraph editor's work，and my own，too.""Good gracious，Thursday ！"exclaimed Patsy；"you'll be running the whole paper，presently.""No；I can't do the typesetting.But if the Dwyer girls stick to their job—and they seem quite contented here—I'll answer for the rest of the out？t.""I'm glad the Dwyer girls seem contented，"she answered；"but I'm afraid to depend upon anyone now—except you."He liked that compliment，but said nothing further.After consulting with Louise and Beth，Patsy broached the subject to Hetty，and the artist jumped at the opportunity to do something to occupy her leisure time.The work brought her in contact with Thursday Smith more than ever，and when Miss Briggs departed bag and baggage for New York，the paper suffered little through her defection.
"Newspaper folk，"remarked Major Doyle，who was now at the farm enjoying his vacation and worshipping at the shrine of the managing editor in the person of his versatile daughter，"are the most unreliable of any class in the world.So I've often been told，and I believe it.They come and go，by fits andstarts，and it's a wonder the erratic rascals never put a paper out of business.But they don't.You never heard of a newspaper that failed to appear just because the mechanical force deserted and left it in the lurch.By hook or crook the paper must be printed—and it always is.So don't worry，mavourneena；when your sallow—faced artist and your hobo jack—of—all—trades desert you，there'll still be a way to keep the Millville Tribune going，and therefore the world will continue to whirl on its axis.""I don't believe Thursday will ever desert，and Hettylikes us too well to leave us in the lurch；but suppose those typesetters take a notion to ？it ？""Then，"said matter—of—factb Beth，"we'll ？ll the paper with ready—made plate stuff and telegraph for more compositors.""That's it，"agreed the major，"Those people are always to be had.But don't worry till the time comes.As me grandfather，the commodorec，once said：'Never cross a bridge till ye come toit.'""It wasn't your grandfather who originated that remark，"said Uncle John.
"It was，sir！I defy you to prove otherwise.""I'm not certain you ever had a grandfather；and he wasn'ta commodore，anyhow.""Sir ！"cried the major，glaring at his brother—in—law，"I have his commission，somewhere—laid away.""Never mind，"said Patsy，cheerfully，for these fierce arguments between her father and uncle—who were devotedly attached to one another—never disturbed her in the least，"the Tribune's running smoothly just now，and the work is keeping us delightfully busy.I think that never in my life have I enjoyedmyself more than since I became a journalist.""Is the thing paying dividends？"inquired the major.Arthur laughed.
"I've just been figuring up the last month's expenditures and receipts，"said he."The ？rst month didn't count，for we were getting started.""And what's the result？"asked the Major.
"Every paper we send out—for one cent—costs us eighty—eight cents to manufacture."There was a painful silence for a time，broken by the major'ssuggestive cough.
"I hope，"said the old soldier，solemnly，"that the paper's circulation is very small.""The smallest of any daily paper in all the civilized word，sir，"declared the bookkeeper.
"Of course，"remarked Louise，with dignity；"that is whatdistinguishes it.We did not undertake this publication to make money，and it does not cost us more than we are willing to pay for the exceptional experiences we are gaining."The major raised his eyebrows；Arthur whistled softly；Uncle John smiled；but with one accorda they dropped the disagreeable subject.