CHAPTER VIII HERBERT BECOMES AMBITIOUS AND IS FASCINATED BY THE SMELL

OF PRINTERS’ INK

From the time that he was first able to spell and connect one word with another, Herbert was fascinated by the sight of a printed page. If he saw a circular or a fragment of newspaper on the sidewalk he was impelled to pick it up and read its contents. The weekly paper was a rare treat to him and he perused its columns from the first page to the last, until he knew the contents almost by heart. The sight of a book of fiction or adventure or biography was one of the greatest joys on earth to him, and he eagerly devoured everything of that kind that came in his way. Early in his school-days he had written little essays which after being read in secret, many times, were finally consigned to the flames as being unworthy of publicity.

The town, among its other places and things of interest, possessed a weekly newspaper known as the Cleverly Banner. Herbert never passed the office of this newspaper without being filled with a wild desire to be on the inside instead of the outside of the building. Frequently he stood looking in the window watching the old-fashioned press as it slowly ground out the regular weekly edition. Once or twice he had occasion to call at the office of the Banner with reference to some printing that was being done there, and on such occasions he was thrown into transports of delight. The smell of the ink, the sound of the presses, and the sight of the freshly printed pages sent him into an ecstacy that was almost heavenly in its pleasure.

When he decided to quit farming his eye and heart unconsciously turned towards the little newspaper office. One morning he heard that an apprentice was needed there, he hastened to make application for the position. The building occupied by the Banner set back on a little lot facing the main street of the town. It was a two story and a half dwelling, and an old faded wooden sign over the doorway announced the name of the paper and informed the residents that “Job printing of all kinds could be furnished on short notice.” The building itself was half rotted away from age and want of paint. One editor and one owner after another had succeeded to the Banner; but it had never occurred to any of them that it would be a good stroke of business policy to repair or at least paint the exterior of the building.

The first floor of the Banner office was taken up with a little counter where such business as was transacted with the public might be cared for. The remainder of the room was occupied by a very large old-fashioned printing press. It worked very slowly, and as a consequence had to go steadily two or three days a week in order to turn out the edition of the paper. The second floor, which resembled a hay loft more than a place of business, was utilized as the editorial and composing room. An old-fashioned stove in the centre of the room threw out a heat that made the apartment decidedly uncomfortable at times. A big, sleek cat dozing placidly beneath this stove was one of the permanent fixtures of the room.

It was quite early in the morning when Herbert called at the Banner office, and he did not find anyone on the first floor. He rapped on the counter to attract attention, and presently a voice from upstairs called out in clear, loud tones:

“Come upstairs.”

He climbed up the rude stairway slowly, and finally emerged into the editorial and composing room. An elderly man sat in an old-fashioned armchair in front of a little desk with its top sloping very much like the desks used in some schools. He was writing rapidly and pausing every now and then to dip his pen into a big ink-pot which stood by his side. Visitors to the Banner office were well acquainted with that enormous ink-stand. It had been used by the various editors from the time of the foundation of the Banner and went back so far that its origin must finally have been lost in the mists of antiquity. When the industrious writer had finished a sentence or a paragraph to his satisfaction he wheeled about in his chair and expectorated a mouthful of tobacco juice into an ample cuspidor which stood on the other side of the desk. He had a shock of snow white hair, very much in disorder, caused no doubt from his habit of running his fingers through his hair when in search of a fugitive thought. He was in his shirt sleeves, which was his usual habit, for he always protested that it was not possible for a man to do his best work harnessed up in a coat and vest. Such was Noah Brooks, the editor of the Cleverly Banner, and one of the characters of the town. He looked up from his work as Herbert entered, and said:

“Hello there, young man! What can I do for you?”

“I want you to give me a job,” said Herbert simply.

This reply seemed to amaze the editor, for he laid down his pen, pushed back his chair, and placing his feet on the desk before him, looked at Herbert with a good-natured smile. It seemed almost a minute before he spoke. When he did it was to say:

“So you want a job, do you? Well, that’s a laudable ambition; but I am afraid you have come to the wrong place.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Herbert.

Noah Brooks looked at Herbert again before replying, and then moving slightly and raising the index finger of his right hand, he pointed to the rear of the room and said:

“Do you see those fellows over there?”

Herbert looked around and saw a man engaged in setting type, while a boy with a great big ink roller in one hand was engaged in taking a proof of a circular that was about to be printed.

“Yes sir,” he answered obediently; “I see them.”

“Well, do you know,” said the old gentleman with a chuckle, “that about all those two fellows do is to sit around and wait for Saturday night in order to draw their salaries.”

The humor of this seemed to appeal to the speaker so strongly that he had to pause and engage in a hearty laugh before proceeding. The man and the boy did not appear to be offended. On the contrary, they laughed too, as if they were accustomed to the good-natured jests of their employer.

“I am very sorry,” said Herbert, breaking the silence; “but I was really anxious to get employment on this paper--I have long wished to enter the newspaper business.”

“Is that so? Do you know anything about the business?”

“No,” said Herbert; “I am entirely ignorant of it; but I felt that I could learn.”

“That’s the way to talk,” was the hearty reply. “The only way to learn to do a thing is to do it. I think you would pan out all right in an office of this kind; but I am sorry to say we have no opening at the present time.”

Herbert said “Good-by” quietly; but once out of the building he felt very much depressed at his failure to secure a situation. He did not tell his mother of his adventure, not wishing to annoy her with anything that was not of a cheerful nature. During the next few months he managed to earn a small amount of money by odd bits of employment that were furnished to him through Horace Coke, the lawyer; but as he had no taste for the law he did not feel very much encouraged over this occasional work. His mind still dwelt upon the newspaper business.

One evening he wrote a little item describing an entertainment given at the Cleverly High School, and mailed it to the office of the Banner, without indicating the name or address of the writer. After he had sent this little message on its way, he was figuratively speaking, on pins and needles until the next issue of the Cleverly Banner should appear. On the date of its regular issue, he hurried home in order to get the paper as soon as possible. He was disappointed. It had not arrived. Unable to wait, he rushed to the post office, and securing the paper, he eagerly tore off the wrapping and opened the page which contained the local news. What he found there caused his face to flush scarlet. The little item that he had written with such care was reproduced, word for word, as he had penned it, without a change of any kind. He felt so glad that he could have shouted for joy. Several other persons were in the post office, and he looked around at them as if to see whether they had read his secret; but apparently no one was paying any attention to him. He walked home in a fever of happiness, and it was only by the strongest effort on his part that he refrained from telling his mother about the incident.

Naturally he continued to send little items to the paper from week to week. Sometimes they failed to appear. On such occasions he felt a sense of loss and disappointment that was far out of proportion to the importance of the subject. But when the paragraphs did appear that feeling of elation and joy returned to him on each occasion.

Finally he determined to call at the office of the Banner once more. It was just possible that there might be an opening, and he made up his mind not to miss it merely for the sake of asking. The venerable editor with the snow white hair was in his place as usual. He recognized Herbert immediately, and cried out:

“Hello young man! I see you are here again.”

“Yes sir,” replied Herbert. “I do not want to be a bore, but I felt that it would be all right to inquire whether an opportunity had arisen by which I could secure employment on the Banner.”

Once again the old man looked at him in that quizzical manner.

“Perseverance wins, boy,” he said, “and you have won. I do need somebody. My apprentice has left me very suddenly, and I think I can make use of you. He only got four dollars a week. I know that will be pretty small for you; but I can afford to give you six dollars, and if you are willing to take it the job is yours.”

Herbert could not conceal the pleasure that he felt.

“I will be delighted to accept,” he said. “When do you want me to begin, and what may my duties be?”

“You can begin to-morrow morning at eight o’clock,” was the response; “and your duties at first will consist of sweeping out the office, serving the Banner every week, working the printing press, and making yourself generally useful. That does not sound very poetic, does it? But you will find that it will prove a very useful discipline and may be valuable to you later in life.”

Herbert began his work the following morning and did everything in his power to give satisfaction to his employer. If he swept out the office, he did it so carefully as to win the praise of the journeyman printer. When he served the papers, he did it with such accuracy as to merit the approval of the editor. This continued for several weeks, and at the end of that time he began to contribute little local items to the paper, much to the satisfaction of Mr. Brooks. In the meantime Mr. Anderson had opened a night school in the town, and Herbert resolved to attend the sessions of this school in order to perfect his education as much as possible.

Towards the close of the winter Mr. Brooks complimented Herbert by authorizing him to write the Irvington letter for the Banner. Irvington was the adjoining town, and by this new arrangement Herbert had to go there for the items regularly every week. He walked there and back in mid-winter in order to obtain this copy, and although the weather was sometimes very severe, he never complained. Under his arrangement with Mr. Brooks, he was to remain at the office of the Cleverly Banner until he was twenty years of age. Incidentally he was initiated into the mystery of typesetting, for the Banner, although progressive in some ways, had not yet reached the dignity of typesetting machines. The printing press gave him more trouble than any other part of his work. On the days that he had to assist in working the press his hands were blistered and his back lamed by constant stooping. Yet he was always kindly treated by those in authority, and in return merited their confidence and good will.

Late one afternoon on his way home he met Mary Black, who was as sweet and kind and tender as ever. Her first thought was about his new position.

“Herbert, I hear that you are connected with the Banner.”

“Yes,” he said modestly, “that is true.”

“Are you the editor?”

“Not exactly.”

“But what do you write for the paper?”

“When I do write,” he said with a little hesitancy, “it is usually the local paragraphs.”

“Did you write the account of the last entertainment at the Cleverly High School?”

“Yes,” he replied, with an inquiring look in his eyes.

“Oh!” she exclaimed impulsively, “I think that that was just splendid. It was one of the nicest things I ever read.”

Herbert flushed with conscious pride at this unexpected praise. He tried to turn it off by saying that it was only an ordinary piece of work; but as he walked away he had a difficult time in smothering the feeling of pride that rose in his breast in spite of himself. He could scarcely eat his supper that night so strong was the feeling of elation within him, and even as late as bedtime the recollection of the praise given him so sweetly filled him with as much delight as if he had suddenly fallen heir to a great fortune.