Produced by Afra Ullah, Brett Koonce and PG Distributed Proofreaders
AUNT JANE'S NIECES ON VACATION
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE
1912
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE HOBO AT CHAZY JUNCTION
II THE INVASION OF MILLVILLE
III THE DAWN OF A GREAT ENTERPRISE
IV THE WAY INTO PRINT
V DIVIDING THE RESPONSIBILITIES
VI MR. SKEELTY OF THE MILL
VII THE SKETCH ARTIST
VIII THE Millville Daily Tribune
IX TROUBLE
X THURSDAY SMITH
XI THE HONER'BLE OJOY BOGLIN
XII MOLLY SIZER'S PARTY
XIII BOB WEST INTERFERES
XIV THE DANCER SIGNAL
XV A CLEVER IDEA
XVI LOCAL CONTRIBUTORS
XVII THE PENALTIES OF JOURNALISM
XVIII OPEN WARFARE
XIX A MERE MATTER OF REVENGE
XX DEFENDING THE PRESS
XXI THE COMING OF FOGERTY
XXII UNMASKED
XXIII THE JOURNALISTS ABDICATE
XXIV A CHEERFUL BLUNDER
CHAPTER I
THE HOBO AT CHAZY JUNCTION
Mr. Judkins, the station agent at Chazy Junction, came out of his littlehouse at daybreak, shivered a bit in the chill morning air and gave aninvoluntary start as he saw a private car on the sidetrack. There weretwo private cars, to be exact—a sleeper and a baggage car—and Mr.Judkins knew the three o'clock train must have left them as it passedthrough.
"Ah," said he aloud; "the nabobs hev arrove."
"Who are the nabobs?" asked a quiet voice beside him.
Again Mr. Judkins started; he even stepped back a pace to get a betterview of the stranger, who had approached so stealthily through the dimlight that the agent was unaware of his existence until he spoke.
"Who be you?" he demanded, eyeing the man suspiciously.
"Never mind who I am," retorted the other in a grumpy tone; "theoriginal question is 'who are the nabobs?'"
"See here, young feller; this ain't no place fer tramps," observed Mr.Judkins, frowning with evident displeasure; "Chazy Junction's got all itkin do to support its reg'lar inhabitants. You'll hev to move on."
The stranger sat down on a baggage truck and eyed the private carreflectively. He wore a rough gray suit, baggy and threadbare, a flannelshirt with an old black tie carelessly knotted at the collar, a brownfelt hat with several holes in the crown, and coarse cowhide shoes thathad arrived at the last stages of usefulness. You would judge him to befrom twenty-five to thirty years of age; you would note that his facewas browned from exposure, that it was rather set and expressionless butin no way repulsive. His eyes, dark and retrospective, were his mostredeeming feature, yet betrayed little of their owner's character. Mr.Judkins could make nothing of the fellow, beyond the fact that he wasdoubtless a "tramp" and on that account most unwelcome in this retiredneighborhood.
Even tramps were unusual at Chazy Junction. The foothills were sparselysettled and the inhabitants too humble to be attractive to gentlemen ofthe road, while the rocky highways, tortuous and uneven, offered noinvitation to the professional pedestrian.
"You'll hev to move on!" repeated the agent, more sternly.
"I can't," replied the other with a smile. "The car I was—er—attachedto has come to a halt. The engine has left us, and—here we are, I andthe nabobs."
"Be