The Snowflake herald., 1922-03-03
By
Booth
Harrington
Copyright, 1927
By the Bell Syndicate, Inc.

they got desk from that nasty little
table and some chairs, and a map on
the wall; and that's their newspaper
Office. They go out and look for what's
the news, and write it down in ink !;
and then they go through the gate to
the other side of the railing where the
printing press is, and print it for their
newspaper"
But what do they do on the fence
50 much?'
That's where they go to watch
what the news is" Florence explained
morosely. ''They think they're so
grand. sittin' up there, pokin' around
They go other places, too; and they
ask people. That's all they said l
could be !" Here the lady's bitterness
became strongly intensified. "They
said, maybe l could be one o. the ones
they asked If knew anything. some
times, If they happen to think of it
just respectf'ly told 'em I'd decline to
wipe my oldest shoes on 'em to save
their lives! 7"
Mrs. Atwater sighed. "You mustn't
use such expressions, Florence"
II don't see why not" the daughter
objected. They're a lot more refined
than the expressions they used on
mel!
Then I'm very glad you didn't play
with Them"
but Nd
gave way to filial despair. Mama,
you just can't see through anything
I've said anyhow fifty times they amt
aren't playing! They're getting up a
real newspaper, and people buy 1t,
and everything. They have been all
over this part of town and got every
aunt and uncle they have, besides their
own fathers and mothers, and some
people in the neighborhood, and Kitty
Silver and two or three other cOlored
people besides, that work for families
they know. They're going to charge
twenty-five cents year, collect-in-ad-
vance because they want the money
first; and even papa gave 'em quar-
ter last night; he told me So"
"How often do they publish their
paper, Florence?" Mrs. Atwater in
CURED somewhat absently, having re-
sumed her sewing.
Every week; and they're goin' to
have the first one a week from to-
day."
what do they call it?'
'The North End Daily Oriole. It's
the silliest name l ever heard for a
newspaper; and 1 told 'em so. / told
'em what 1 thought of it, l guess!"
''Was that the reason?" Mrs. At
water asked.
"Was it what reason, mama?"
"Was it the reason they wouldn't
let you be reporter with them?"
"Pooh!" Florence exclaimed airily
II didn't want anything to do with
their ole paper. But anyway 1 didn't
make fun o. their calm it the North
End Daily Oriole till after they said
l couldn't be in it. Then / did, you
bet!"
Florence, don't say"
Mama, got to say somep'm Well,
told 'em / wouldn't be in their ole
paper if they begged me on their bent
ed knees; and / said if they begged
me a thousand years / wouldn't be
in any paper with such crazy name !;
and / wouldn't tell 'em any news If
knew the President of the United
States had the scarlet fever! 1 just
politely informed 'em they could say
what they liked If they was dying; I
declined so much as wipe the oldest
shoes 1 got on 'em!'
''But why wouldn't they let you be
on the paper?" her mother insisted.
Upon this Florence became analyti-
cal. "Just SOS they could act so i'm
portant!" And she added, as con-
sequence: "They ought to be arrest
ed"
Mrs. Atwater murmured absently,
but forbore to press her inquiry; and
Florence was silent, In a brooding
mood. The journalists upon the fence
had disappeared from view, during the
conversation with her mother; and
presently she sighed and quietly left
the room. She went to her own apart
ment, where, at a small and rather
battered little white desk, after a pc
riod of earnest reverie, she took up
pen, wet the point in purple ink, and
without any great effort or any criti-
cal delayings. produced a poem.