I'd better keep shady for a day or so. I
wish I was on my way to New York!"
"Seems to me as if you were," said Mary. "They won't come here after
you. The paper's nearly full, now, and it'll be out to-morrow!"
Mr. Murdoch would have been gratified to see how Mary and Jack worked
that day. Even Mr. Black and the type-setters worked with energy, and
so did Mr. Bones, and there was no longer any doubt that the _Eagle_
would be printed on time. Mr. Murdoch felt better the moment he was
told by Mary, at tea-time, that she had found editing no trouble at
all. He was glad, he said, that all had been so quiet, and that nobody
had called at the editor's office, and that people did not know he was
sick. As to that, however, Mr. Bones had not told Mary how much he and
Mr. Black had done to protect her from intrusion. They had been like a
pair of watch-dogs, and it was hardly possible for any outsider to pass
them. As for Jack, he was not seen outside of the _Eagle_ all that day.
"If any of Deacon Abram's posse should come in," he remarked to Mary,
"they wouldn't know me with all the ink that's on my face."
"Mother would have to look twice," laughed Mary. "Don't I wish I knew
what people will think of the paper!"
She did not find out at once, even on Thursday. Jack had the engine
going on time, and as fast as papers were printed, the distribution of
them followed. It was a very creditable _Eagle_, but Mary blushed when
she read in print the account Mr. Murdoch had written of the doings in
Crofield.
"They'll think Jack's a hero," she said, "and what will they think of
me?--and what will Miss Glidden say? But then he has complimented her."
Jack, too, was much pleased to read the vivid accounts she had written
of the capture and escape of the daring young burglar who had broken
into the house of Mrs. McNamara, and of the falling of Link's bridge.
Neither of them, however, had an idea of how some articles in the paper
would affect other people. Before noon, there was such a rush for
_Eagles_, at the front office, that Mr. Black got out another ream of
paper to print a second edition, and Mr. Bones had almost to fight to
keep the excited crowd from going up-stairs to see for themselves
whether the editor was there. Before night, poor Mrs. Murdoch went to
the door thirty times to say to eager inquirers that Mr. Murdoch was in
bed, and that Dr. Follet had forbidden him to see anybody, or to talk
one word, or t
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