Dorothy Dale to the Rescue by Margaret Penrose

"Everything about the old _Bugle_ office seems so changed," said Dorothy Dale slowly. "I feel sort of -- "

"Homesick? " giggled her chum, Tavia Travers.

"Exactly," retorted Dorothy. "That gorgeous big printing press which has taken the place of the one we used to have -- "

"The old one-lunger Ralph had charge of? " Tavia again interrupted airily. "It was funny, wasn't it?"

"I think it was a dear," declared Dorothy loyally. "It used to print the old _Bugle_ in pretty good shape, anyway."

"Good gracious, Doro, any one would think you were in mourning for the old _Bugle_ office," cried Tavia, exasperated. "If you want the old one-lunger back, I am sure you can get it, provided it has not gone to adorn an ash heap somewhere."

Dorothy smiled, but her eyes were wistful. The two girls had returned to Dalton and were now staying at Tavia's home. They had just visited the offices of the _Bugle_, the paper formerly owned by Major Dale and which, for a number of years, had been the chief source of income of the Dale family.

The girls were impressed by the great changes that had taken place in the newspaper office. A fine new printing press had been installed, the offices renovated and modernized until all trace of the rather dingy and shabby quarters of the old _Bugle_ had been lost.

Small wonder that Dorothy Dale, for whom the paper had always held a peculiar fascination, felt taken aback by the great change that had taken place during her absence. It was like losing an old and dear though shabby friend and finding a prosperous but unfamiliar stranger in his place.

"Do you remember that first assignment of my journalistic career? " said Tavia, with a giggle. "I thought I was cut out for a star reporter that time, for sure."

"That was the obituary assignment Ralph Willoby gave you, wasn't it? " returned Dorothy, with a reminiscent chuckle. "My gracious, how many ages off that time seems, Tavia!"

"Yes, we are growing old and gray," agreed the flyaway sadly. "I wonder you haven't taken to cap and spectacles long ere this, Doro, my dear. I am sure I can see white hairs gleaming in the sunlight."

"I hope not. I don't think Garry likes white hair," said Dorothy demurely.

"Speaking of snowy locks, hasn't Mr. Grant a stunning head of them? " said the irrepressible girl. "I simply adore that pepper and salt effect, don't you, Doro?"

"I guess so," said Dorothy absently. Her mind was still busy with the _Bugle_ offices and the changes made there.

"I wish the Major had not sold the _Bugle_, Tavia," she said wistfully. "I can't forget how I used to help get out the old paper and-I would like to do it again."

"Good gracious, hear the child! " cried Tavia, making big eyes at her chum. "Not hungering for a career at this late date, are you, Doro? What do you suppose Garry would say to your making a reporteress of yourself?"

Dorothy dimpled and her eyes began to shine as they always did at mention of Garry Knapp.

"I suppose he wouldn't approve," she admitted. "He is just old-fashioned enough to think that the man ought to be the only moneymaker in the family."

"Well, why not, as long as he can make enough? " demanded Tavia airily. "That is really the important thing."