“About time! Another few months and it would have gone right down the drain. Now you can turn it around, make it shine.” He glanced at his watch. “If you leave early enough tomorrow you can be down there by midday. It’s a Thursday paper. You’ll be in time to have some input on this week’s issue. No time like the present to begin putting things to rights. Sales haven’t been what they should be. You can start up an advertising campaign, too. And some sort of weekly contest. The one you did in Thrush-by-the-Marsh worked like a charm. Something like that!” Earl rubbed his hands together in glee.

But as Gabe watched, the enthusiasm seemed to drain right out of Randall, as if it were being choked off. As it probably was-by the added tug on the noose of even greater responsibilities.

“Whoa. Hey, hold up. You’ll choke him!” He looked at Randall and slid a finger around the inside of his collar.

Randall hesitated. His hand crept up and loosened his tie. His mouth opened. And closed again. He didn’t say a word.

Idiot! Gabe glared at him. Was he going to let the old man run him into the ground? Randall glared back.

Earl looked from one to the other of them. He frowned. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem,” Randall said at the same moment Gabe said, “Big problem! Here you go pushing more work off on him! I just told you, he needs a break!”

“And I told you there’s work to be done!”

“Get someone else!”

“Someone else?” Earl sounded as if he couldn’t believe his ears. He was working himself up, breathing hard and going red in the face. “The Buckworthy Gazette is the Stanton paper,” he roared. “Ours by right. And failing badly. It’s going to take a Stanton to turn it around.”

“But why does it have to be this Stanton?” Gabe demanded.

“Because Martha is on the other side of the world.”