“I don’t suppose so,” admitted Tom, “but we’ll run a story in this week’s issue that will scare him. We’ll say the fire chief is investigating and may ask for state secret service men to help him run down the fire bug who started it. That ought to give Atwell a queer feeling.”

They telephoned for another supply of print paper for the week’s issue and the next morning were back at the office. The men who had worked through the night had done a good job of cleaning and there was little evidence of fire other than the charred casings of the back door and smudgy condition of the walls and ceiling.

Thanksgiving was brightened by word from their father that he would be able to return home in the spring but despite that it was a sad day in the Blair home for there was none to fill his chair at the head of the table.

“Christmas,” thought Helen, “is going to be terribly lonesome for mother with Dad so far away,” and the more she thought about it the more determined she became. Without saying anything to Tom or her mother, she made several guarded inquiries at the station and elicited the desired information.

The days before the annual meeting of the supervisors passed rapidly. The ground whitened under the first snow of the year and the auditor for whom Tom had arranged in Cranston arrived to audit their circulation list officially. For a week before his arrival Tom and Helen concentrated every effort on their circulation with the result that when the audit was completed the Herald could boast of 1,411 paid up subscriptions.

“You’ve done a remarkably fine piece of work,” Curtis Adams, the auditor, told Helen, “and I’m sure you young folks deserve the county work.”

The supervisors met on Thursday, December 15th, and in order to attend the meeting Tom and Helen worked most of Wednesday night getting the final pages of the Herald on the press, assembling and folding the papers. It was three o’clock in the morning when they reached home and their mother, who had been sleeping on a davenport awaiting their return, prepared a hot lunch and then sent them to bed.

At nine o’clock Tom teased their venerable flivver into motion and with their records and the auditor in the back seat, they started for Gladbrook. It was well after ten o’clock when they reached the courthouse and they went directly to the supervisors’ rooms where a clerk asked them to wait.

Half an hour later they were called and Helen went into the board room with mixed emotions throbbing through her mind. What would be the answer to their months of work? Would they get the county work which meant so much or would Burr Atwell succeed in defeating them?

Her arms ached from the heavy task of folding the papers the night before and she was so nervous she was on the verge of tears. If they won they would be able to buy a folder for the press and she wouldn’t have to fold any more papers. That thought alone gave her new courage and she smiled bravely at Tom as he stepped forward and told the supervisors why he believed the Herald should be the third county paper.

Then Mr. Adams, the auditor, presented his sworn statement of the circulation of the Herald and in conclusion, he added:

“I have never seen a sounder or better circulation than these young people have built up. They have made no special offers nor have they reduced rates. People who take the Herald do so because it is one of the best weekly papers I have ever seen.”

The chairman of the board of supervisors looked expectantly around the room.

“The Gladbrook papers, the News and the Times, have made their application and the Herald has just been heard,” he explained. “I expected Mr. Atwell of the Auburn Advocate would be here.”

The board waited for fifteen minutes. Then there was a whispered conference between members and the chairman stood up.

“The selection of official papers has been made,” he announced. “The Gladbrook News, the Gladbrook Times and the Rolfe Herald will be known as the official papers for the ensuing year. The meeting is adjourned until afternoon.”

The editors of the Gladbrook papers offered Tom and Helen their congratulations and expressed willingness to cooperate in every way.

When they were alone Tom looked at Helen through eyes that were dim.

“We won,” he said huskily, “and it’s all due to your hard work on circulation.”

Helen’s eyes were just as misty as she smiled back.

“No,” she replied, “it was your hunch in putting the records in the bank. We’d have been ruined if you hadn’t. I’m wondering why Mr. Atwell didn’t appear.”

“I have a hunch he was afraid we had connected him with the fire,” said Tom. “Now let’s phone mother and then send a wire to Dad.”

That afternoon Tom completed the arrangements to publish the official proceedings of the county supervisors and increased the amount of job printing he was to get from the courthouse. He also hired a middle-aged printer who agreed to come to Rolfe and work for $18 a week.

“But isn’t that a little extravagant?” asked Helen.

“We must have help now,” explained Tom, “and with the county printing safely tucked away we can afford it. Also, I bought a second-hand folder from the Times here. It only cost me $50 and you’ll never have to fold papers again.”

“Oh, I’m so happy,” exclaimed Helen, “for I did hate to fold them. There were so many along toward the end.”

On the way home that afternoon they made further plans and checked up on their funds in the bank.

“We’ve got a little over $900 right now,” said Tom, “and that’s deducting all of my extravagances of an auditor and buying the second-hand folder. Our bills are all paid and we’re having a record December in advertising. I’d say we were sitting pretty.”

“I was thinking about Christmas,” said Helen.

“It’s going to be mighty lonesome without Dad,” admitted Tom.

“Mother will miss him especially. They’ve never been away from each other at the holidays before.”

Something in Helen’s voice caught Tom’s attention and he glanced at her sharply.

“Say, what the dickens are you driving at?” he asked.

“Give me a check for $200 and I’ll show you,” replied Helen. “It will mean the happiest Christmas we’ve ever had.”

“I’ll do it and no questions asked until you’re ready to tell me,” agreed Tom and when they reached Rolfe he went to the office and signed a check for $200 payable to Helen Blair.

The following Thursday fell on the 22nd of December and there was so much advertising they had to run two sections of the Herald. The printer they had hired in Gladbrook was slow but thorough and they got the paper to press on time. With the folder installed, Helen was spared the arduous duties of folding all of the papers and she devoted her time to running the mailing machine.

“Spent that $200 yet?” asked Tom as they walked home through the brisk December evening, snow crunching underfoot.

“All gone,” smiled Helen, “and the big surprise is here in my pocket. Wait until we get home and I tell mother about it.”

“Guess I’ll have to,” grinned Tom.

They found their mother in the kitchen busy with the evening meal.

“Mother, we’ve got a Christmas surprise for you,” said Helen. “Come in the living room.”

Mrs. Blair looked up quickly.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” she said, “but I hope you didn’t spend too much money.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, she preceded them into the living room.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Over there on the library table,” replied Helen, pointing to an envelope tied with a band of red ribbon with a sprig of holly on top.

Mrs. Blair picked up the envelope, untied the ribbon and looked inside. She pulled out two objects. One was a long, green strip of paper with many perforations and much printing. The other was a small black book similar to a check book.

She held the long slip with hands that trembled as she read it.

“It’s a round trip ticket to Rubio, Arizona!” she gasped, “Oh, Helen! Tom! How kind of you. Father and I will have Christmas together! And here’s a book of traveler’s checks and Pullman reservations. I’m to leave tomorrow.”

Tom gave Helen a hearty hug.

“So that’s where the $200 went,” he whispered. “Are you sure it’s enough?”

“Plenty,” she replied.

Mrs. Blair sat down in her favorite chair, the ticket and check book in her hands, her eyes dim with tears.

“But I can’t go away and leave you two here alone during holidays,” she said.

“Oh yes you can, Mother,” said Tom. “We’ll be happy just knowing that you and Dad are together and you can tell him all about us and then, when you come back, you can tell us all about him.”

“You must go, Mother,” insisted Helen. “I’ve let Dad in on the surprise and we can’t disappoint him now.”

Doctor Stevens drove them to the junction where Mrs. Blair was to board the Southwestern limited. Snow was falling steadily, one of those dry, sifting snows that presage a white Christmas in the middle west.

The limited poked its dark nose through the storm and drew its string of Pullmans up to the bleak platform. It paused for only a minute and the goodbyes were hasty.

The limited whirled away into the storm and Tom and Helen, standing alone on the platform, watched it disappear in the snow. It would be a quiet Christmas for them but they were supremely happy knowing that their father was on the road to health and that they had made a success of the Herald.