Jane Carter Investigates Episode One-Hundred and Twenty-Two
The next morning Flo and I arrived at
the Times building to
find that the entire lower floor had been cleaned and swept. Harry was in the
composing room, stirring up a great cloud of dust with a stub of a broom.
“I was just cleaning the place up a
bit,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” I said. “I’m delighted.”
“I set a little type for you last
night, too.”
“Why, Mr. Horner, I didn’t know you
were a linotype operator.”
“I’m not,” said the man, “but I can
learn most anything if I set my mind to it. If you have any jobs you want done
just turn them over to me.”
“Mr. Horner,” I said, “more than
anything else I would like to publish Carter’s
All-Story Weekly in my own plant. The obstacles seem almost too great to
overcome; do you think it could be accomplished?”
“Why, sure,” said Harry. “If I had some
tools and a little to do with I could get the presses ready in a day.”
“What about the stereotyping work?”
“I could master the trick of it,”
declared Harry confidently.
“You’re a jewel!” I said. “I’ll place
you in charge of my production department, but I fear I can’t give you a salary
in proportion to your duties.”
“Don’t worry about that, Ma’am. I would
rather be working than sitting around with nothing to do.”
“Then look over the plant and make up a
list of the things you must have. I’ll go over to the Examiner this
minute and arrange for printing paper.”
I left Flo in charge of the office and
set out for my father’s plant. Now that Harry had been added to the staff of
the Weekly, problems which previously had seemed insurmountable suddenly
had become easily solved.
When I got to the Examiner building I went directly to the stockroom, wandering about
until I found Mr. Curry, the foreman.
“Here’s something for you,” I said,
offering a slip of paper.
“What’s this?” Mr. Curry asked. “An
order for a roll of paper?”
“Yes, Mr. Curry,” I explained. “At last
I am going to publish my own sheet over in the old Press building. I’ll
square the bill with my father.”
“One of these big rolls would print
more copies of your paper than you could sell in six months! And paper is
expensive. How about a half-roll or even a quarter? It would be a lot easier to
handle.”
“Oh, all right,” I said. “Just so I get
enough to print my next issue.”
Mr. Curry led the way to one of the
presses, pointing to a roll of paper mounted on a feeding rack.
“That one is about half used up,” he
said. “Will it do?”
“Yes, I guess so,” I agreed. “May I
have it right away?”
Mr. Curry replied by pushing a tram
along a miniature railway which ran under the press. He maneuvered the roll
into position on the carrier, then he pushed the tram to the elevator, moved
the portable paper lift over the roll, and up it went to the platform. The
elevator grounded at the first floor where the paper was rolled to the loading
dock with pry bars.
“There you are,” said the foreman.
“All I need now is a truck. Thanks, Mr.
Curry!”
I stood guard by my roll of paper and
waited until one of the Examiner drivers had finished unloading his
cargo and was ready to pull from the dock.
“How’s chances fer a ride, buddy?” I
said, jerking my thumb in the manner of a hitchhiker. “Me and my paper to the
old Press building?”
“Okay,” laughed the trucker.
He rolled the paper onto the truck, and I climbed into the cab beside him. At the Press building, I had the roll set off at the rear entrance where Harry could easily get it to the press room.
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