Tom took off the coat of his Sunday suit, rolled up his shirt sleeves and donned the ink-smeared apron he wore when working in the composing room. Helen put on the long apron she used when folding papers and they went to work with their enthusiasm at a high pitch. Their task was not new but so much now depended on the success of their efforts that they found added zest in everything they did. Helen went through the piles of old papers on her father's desk, throwing many of them into the large cardboard carton which served as a wastebasket. When the desk was finally in order, she turned her attention to the counter. Samples of stationery needed to be placed in order and she completely rearranged the old-fashioned show case with its display of job printing which showed what the _Herald_ plant was capable of doing. With the desk and counter in shape, Helen picked up all of the papers on the floor, pulled the now heavily laden cardboard carton into the composing room, and then secured the mop and a pail of water. The barber shop, located below the postoffice, kept the building supplied with warm water, and Helen soon had a good pail of suds. Tom stopped his work in the composing room and came in to watch the scrubbing. "First time that floor has been scrubbed in years," he said. "I know it," said Helen as she swished her mop into the corners. "Dad was running the paper and Mother was too busy bringing us up to come down here and do it for him." "He'll never recognize the old place when he comes back," said Tom. "We'll brighten it up a little," agreed Helen, as Tom returned to his task of throwing in the type. Helen had the editorial office thoroughly cleaned by one o'clock and sat down in her father's swivel chair to rest. Tom called in from the back room. "You'd better plan your editorial work for the week," he said. "I want to run the Linotype every afternoon and you'll have to have copy for me." "What do you want first?" said Helen. "Better get the editorials ready today," he replied. "They don't have to be absolutely spot copy. Dad wrote the first column himself and then clipped a column or a column and a half from nearby papers." "I'll get at it right away," said Helen. "The exchanges for last week are on the desk. After I've gone through them I'll write my own editorials." "Better have one about Dad going away," said Tom and there was a queer catch in his voice. Helen did not answer for her eyes filled with a strange mist and her throat suddenly felt dry and full. Their father's departure for the southwest had left a great void in their home life but Helen knew they would have to make the best of it. She was determined that their efforts on the _Herald_ be successful.